


Ain't It A Fine Life?

by orphan_account



Category: Broadway RPF, Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Abuse, All The Ships, Anorexia, Depression, Healing, M/M, Newsies - Freeform, Psych Ward, Therapy, hospital au, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Kelly just wants to get out. His life is one big dark room. That is, until he meets a little ray of sunshine in a mental hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't It A Fine Life?

Pale scars marred perfect wrists, memories of contrasting crimson along ivory skin like dust being blown out of the loud, obnoxious air conditioning vent that was situated in the wall just above Jack Kelly's head. The blue ribbons tied to the dingy silver grate streamed outward, as if the noise of raucous metal wasn't evidence enough that the thing was on.  
This was hell.  
Jack stretched out in the uncomfortable, under-padded waiting room chair, tossing a lanky leg up and over an armrest, much to the disdain of his neighboring patient, an older woman who gave a grimace at the bright red converse being so invasive in her personal space. He gave a cheeky grin; his special way of deflecting that utter disapproval and loneliness that had plagued his mere seventeen years on planet earth.  
He wasn't unattractive, he had been blessed with talents beyond compare, the most noteworthy of which were artistic capability, and the ability to weave such elaborate lies that he could make just about anyone believe that the sky was a particularly fetching shade of lavender rather than blue with just a few sly words.  
Maybe that's what'd gotten him into this mess in the first place.  
He'd never really had anyone looking out for him. He was a runaway, living in a pitiful, filthy apartment in lower Manhattan, wondering with each passing day just how much longer he could put up with the putrid planet. With himself.  
"Kelly? Jack Kelly?" A jolt jumped through the teen as his name was shouted through the tiny linoleum room unnecessarily.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me." He rose on shaky legs after untangling himself from his strange position, slamming his sneakers a little too loudly on the floor. He crossed the room, the modern patterned carpets drawing his attention as he walked; squares, diamonds, circles, ovals, squares. Squares, diamonds-  
"Mr. Kelly?" The voice drew his eyes upwards, to the face of a young nurse with strawberry blonde curls, pinned up and out of her face.

"Jack." His green eyes flickered up and then back down, and the nurse gave a light nod, motioning for him to follow her.  
"I'm Katherine, and I work in this ward. We have a few other patients here. We usually have more, but I guess that there are less people-"

"Tryin' to kill themselves?" Jack's tongue had allowed those words, and not two seconds later did he feel the sinking regret in his chest.

"Well... I wasn't going to say that, but..." Katherine attempted to find the right words.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'. I shouldn't 'a said it." It was the truth. He did wish he hadn't said it. He was attempting to kick the lying habit, as it wasn't exactly healthy.  
The nurse gave a brisk shake of her head, leading the boy into a long eggshell colored hallway, lined with doors. As they walked by, Jack noted that several were open. The rooms were all the same- white walls, blue checkered floors, pale blue curtains over barred windows. Each room had one or two beds, decorated with matching blue bedspreads. The only personal feeling in the rooms were the things that decorated the walls. Posters and photographs blurred together, as Katherine wasn't giving him the time to slow down and observe. As his senses began to take in the rest of the ward, he began to hear several voices, all male, and the most prominent was thick with an accent that wasn't so unlike his own.  
"They're all in the recreation room, we're passing it on the way to your room." The woman looked over her shoulder at him. Jack gave a light nod, his fingers dragging along the wall. He tried to put on an air of confidence as he strode along, though the anxiety brewing in his chest was getting hard to ignore.  
He didn't have but a moment to contemplate turning around and leaving and leaving this place before the voices grew louder, then suddenly stopped. It took Jack a moment, but he realized that himself and Katherine were now standing in front of a section of windows in place of walls, transparent so that the caretakers in this facility could keep an eye on them. He knew nothing about these kids as he stared in on them. There had to be at least twenty gathered around the card table in the large room. Couches were situated at points around a television, and bookshelves lined the walls, but Jack wasn't interested in them. What interested him was the fact that all of those boys-  
At least, he thought they were all boys-  
Were staring straight at him.  
Slowing considerably, he heard Katherine speaking, though he tuned her out as he inspected a few of their patients.  
One, a skinny boy, probably no older that Jack himself, stared with an amused expression on his face and a deck of cards in his hand, and by his side, a young man with tan skin and dark hair set down his hand to watch. By the bookcase, a scrawny, pale boy with dark, neat curls stared with bright eyes, a finger poised over the page of the book he was reading.  
As he looked, Jack could see no physical reasons for any of them to be in this place, though the dark haired boy sported bruises of every color of the rainbow.  
What caught the teen's eye, though, was one kid sitting on the arm of a couch, his left foot twisted at an odd angle and a crutch laying across his thighs. A wide grin was on his puss as he looked at Jack, and for a moment, he wondered if he was going to get up and say hello, but the sound of his own name brought him back to reality, and all too soon was the room out of sight.  
A sigh left pale lips, and he looked up as she led him into one of the boarding rooms. It was immaculate, even though one of the beds was clearly occupied. Photographs were taped to the wall above the bed, sheets skillfully tucked and folded into the wooden frame.  
"And this is where you'll be staying. You have a roommate named David, and he... well, I'll let you talk to him. Now, take off your belt."  
The nurse turned to Jack, who stepped back with a confused expression, his hands up defensively.  
"Scuse me?"

The look on Katherine's face was one of agitation before she realized how it sounded, and giggled.  
"I need to take away anything you might use to... You know. So I also need your shoelaces and the string from your hoodie."

"Oh." He was hesitant, but he did as he was asked, pulling the cheap, checkered patterned belt from his hips, then kneeling down and quickly undoing the strings from his shoes. Straightening his back as he finished unlooping them, he held them out to Katherine, who took them, then motioned to his jacket. He sighed, tugging it free and handed it to her.  
"Thanks. Alright.... There are a couple nurses hanging around here, but I'm usually here every day. Doctor Pulitzer and Doctor Larkson are here if you need them at any time, but you do have an appointment with Doctor Pulitzer at two tomorrow afternoon. Until then, you'll be expected to eat at every meal, and mingle with the others here." She paused to take a breath, and Jack was getting more and more discouraged.  
"Try to make some friends, okay? You are going to be happy here, Mr. Kelly."

Yeah. That was likely.  
_-_-_

"Why d'ya think he's in this joint?" Crutchie finally tore his gaze from the glass as Romeo spoke, adjusting the collar of his sweater to cover a bruise on his shoulder.  
"Don't know. Don't care." Kid Blink replied, his focus, along with each of the other boy's, was back on the game of poker at the table.  
"D'you think he's friendly?" Specs straightened his glasses, observing the game, circling and learning each hand.  
"Who cares?" The voice came from near the shelves, and Racetrack looked up, a smirk on his lips.  
"C'mon, Davey, don't be like that." He said, leaning back in his chair and ruffling the other boy's hair. He gave a yell of annoyance, swatting at Race's hands.

"Don't touch me, Higgins, you know that!" David was on his feet in a split second, slamming his book shut and shoving his way past the other boys, who gave jeering noises, nearly taunting, mostly 'aww'-ing, though it didn't slow David as he stormed from the rec room.

"Davey! Hey, Davey, wait up!" With a good deal of wiggling and a near fall on his face, Crutchie was sprinting- well... hobbling- after him, his metal crutch situated under his arm. It used to bother him, but now, these days, it was like another limb to him. It used to hurt his shoulder, and sometimes it did, but the muscles had strengthened and the skin had developed callous.  
"Davey, come on, you know Races didn't mean it. He was just being a jerk, you know that."

"I'm tired of it, Crutchie, I'm sick of it!" David was working himself into a tizzy, and Crutchie, being practically a nurse himself, knew that this was not good for anyone. Should David get too wound up, he would have to be taken back into solitary, and that would destroy him. That's what everyone was afraid of in this hospital. They usually didn't have any problems, but there was one guy who was always in there, Spot Conlon. Everyone was scared of him. He put anger issues into a whole new light.  
Crutchie, however, wasn't angry like Spot. He wasn't obsessive compulsive like Davey. On the outside, he didn't look like he should be here.  
His past was like a bad car wreck. His whole life, one big horror show. But, as he'd been telling himself for almost seventeen years-

"This doesn't last forever. It's garbage being stuffed down your throat, but it'll pass." Crutchie found his life's motto falling out of his mouth, not really thinking about it. It helped him, but Davey only turned, a look of exhaustion and exasperation on his face.

"When? Because it's been a whole month already, Charlie." The taller of the two asked, crossing his arms.

"Crutchie. And it'll pass when it does. Tomorrow, or the next day, or even next month. But it will, and I'm not gonna stop bein' a perky little thorn in your side, an' you know it." The pale haired boy gave a blinding smile. David couldn't help but mimic it.  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. At least I've got my room to myself, right-" He cut off suddenly as he pushed open the plain white door, the metal number plate reading '172'.

Inside the door, on the bed that had been unoccupied for a whole month, sat a boy. The stranger. The new kid.  
"You're kidding me. You have got to be kidding me." Davey was not going to calm down anytime soon, and Crutchie could see this. There was nothing he could do at this point except for straighten his beanie on his blonde hair and take a step back.  
"Who the hell do you think you are?! This is my room!" Davey was on a furious rampage now, and Crutchie could only watch as the taller stormed into the room, shouting angrily, and chasing out the strange boy, who was trying to pleade his case.

"Look, Katherine put me here, pal, I didn't just show up here, just let me-"

"No, I don't care! They know I can't have a roommate, this is my room, just go!"

At this point, the kid was backing out of the room, his hands raised in what Crutchie could tell was fear, though his eyes were solid with confidence, even as David slammed the door in his face.

The stranger, now that the young man could see him better, was a kid who looked maybe a little older than himself, with longer hair slicked back against his head, though now it was a bit of a mess.  
His jeans and hoodie gave Crutchie the impression that he was hiding something, and his socked feet on the pale linoleum gave a reason for the amused smile on the observer's face. The stranger, however, was still staring at the closed door with an angry expression.

"Ah, don't pay any mind t' Davey. He's just really antsy about his space, y'know?" Crutchie made an attempt to comfort the guy, but as the stranger turned rapidly, he nearly fell backwards in an attempt to get out of the way.

"This was a mistake. I'm gettin' outta here." Without so much as a glance at the other boy, he shoved past and began to run down the hall.  
"Hey! Hey, where ya goin'?! Come back!" Crutchie knew that yelling at him was pointless, and instead, he began to move at top speed, throwing himself after him.

"You can't just leave! That isn't how it works!"

"Yeah? Well I don't give a flying f-" He cut off as he barreled straight into a tall, portly man wearing white nurses scrubs.

"What's goin' on here?" The man asked, eyeing the two boys with displeasure. Crutchie immediately ducked his head in submission, but the new kid squared up his shoulders in the narrow hallway, a grimace on his face.

"You're the new kid, aren't you? Jack Kelly?" The nurse asked, and Crutchie couldn't help but contemplate that name. It sounded so... Western. Exciting, really. Better that than Charles Morris.

"Yeah. And who are you?" Jack snapped back immediately.  
"You know what? I don't care. Where do I get outta here?"

A dark chuckle left the man's lips, and he shook his head.  
"I'm Weisel, and you don't just leave. Sorry, Jack, that's the way things are here."

"Now, listen here, *Weasel*-" Jack took a threatening step forward, and Crutchie couldn't stand by any longer. He stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Jack's shoulder.  
"There's no problem, Mr.Weisel, I'll take Jack to the Rec Room with the rest of us." He gave a dazzling grin, and old Weisel rolled his eyes, even as Jack made an attempt to fight, to yell and hold his ground, Crutchie began to try to subdue him, though he was ready to kill someone.

_-_-_-_

Jack was fuming. He could swear smoke was blowing out of his ears. He'd handled some absolute messed up grievances in his time, but this young man kid roping him out of a fight? That took the cake. And now, he wouldn't stop yammering. On and on he went, and part of Jack wanted to listen, but this kid was like a ray of sunshine. It was exhausting.  
"Miss Katherine is gonna clear up that mess with Davey, just you wait." Was what Jack heard when he stopped tuning him out, and answered with a grunt.

"I'm Crutchie, by the way. My real name's Charlie, but on account 'a my leg, they call me Crutchie."

"That doesn't offend you?" Honestly, Jack hadn't expected himself to give a reply, and yet, he was a little intrigued by this kid.

"Nah, I know the fellas mean well. My name ain't the worst around here." Crutchie gave a smile over his shoulder as he hobbled on ahead.

Watching him with curious eyes, Jack couldn't help but wonder why he chose to make himself struggle around on a stick when he could have been resting easy in a wheelchair, being pushed around at his will and his folks treating him like royalty. Maybe he didn't have folks. Maybe he did, though. Jack liked to think optimistically.  
However, as he trailed behind, he couldn't help but notice the way the smaller boy's clothes fit far too loosely, and how, the way his arm was situated, his shirt climbed up his torso a bit, exposing his scrawny hip and two inches of his side. Seeing what he did, it was like a punch to the gut.  
This kid, this little ball of roses and sunshine, was all skin and bone. Jack could tell now why he wore such a big sweater to cover up. He was nothin'. He could have blown away with the breeze.  
He must have seen Jack staring, because Crutchie was quick to tug his shirt down and avoid the subject.  
"So... Whaddya in for, Jack?" He asked, glancing at the boy as he caught up to him.  
Jack jammed his hands in his pockets, thinking about whether or not lying would be good in this position.  
Well... Old habits die hard.  
"Nothin' dark enough for you, kid." Instead of telling a lie, he simply evaded the truth, feeling a little proud of himself.  
"How about you? What are they doing locking up crips in crazy houses these days?" And there it went again. His foot was so far in his mouth, he could feet it in his stomach.  
"I didn't-" He tried to save himself, but even as he floundered, Crutchie gave a forgiving wave.  
"Nah. Nothing. I don't really talk about it. I don't wanna bring other folks down with my story." This brought a soft frown to Jack's lips, though he had no plans on prying into his business. Curiosity had killed many a cat, and Jack wasn't about to get hit by that metaphorical truck.  
"Huh. So... Who's your ringleader around here?" He attempted to change the subject as they walked down the hallway, his socked feet falling much quieter than Crutchie's own, which were clad in Vans, patterned in... were those cats? Jack couldn't tell while he was moving. He made a mental note to check later.

"That'd be Spot, but since he got sent to solitary, Racetrack is filling in, sorta. The boys like him more than Conlon. He was a little more, uh... bossy."

"Sure, bossy." Out of nowhere, another of the boys that Jack had seen at the card table was standing in one of the doorways they'd been passing.

"Hey, Romeo! I didn't think ya'd want to talk to our new friend today. This is Jack, he's cool. As far as I know." Crutchie smiled, motioning with his free hand.

Jack was hesitent, and he could tell this Romeo kid was too. His dark hair was toussled, and the large sweater he wore couldn't quite hide the fading hand shaped bruises on his throat. Jack guessed he was in here because he'd been kicked around a hell of a lot. Well, like Katherine said. Make friends.  
He stuck out a hand to the kid, and he flinched, stepping backwards.

"Nice to meet you." The kid mumbled, ducking his head before darting into his room. Jack stood there, wondering just what he'd done to screw this one up.

"Don't worry, Jack. Romeo is just shy. I don't wanna be a gossip, but he's been abused for most of his life and his dad tried to kill him. He doesn't like to be touched by people he doesn't know, and he doesn't really know you." Crutchie placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, and the taller gave a shrug.

"It's fine. I don't plan on being here long enough to make friends, anyway."

Crutchie actually laughed at that, cocking his head.  
"But I'm your friend. And you heard Mr. Weisel. You can't leave until they discharge you or your folks come and get you."

"Yeah, well, unless my mom is gonna climb out of her grave and sign me out-" Jack couldn't keep his feet out of his mouth today, could he?  
"I mean..."

Crutchie turned, his eyes filled with sympathy.  
"I get it. My folks aren't around either." He said sadly, though his aura was still sunlight and roses.  
"Come on, enough sad talk. You have t' meet the guys."

Not even a second did Jack have to object, because now he realized where they were. Standing just outside the rec room, and all the strangers were staring at him, yet again.

"Fellas, this is Jack!" Crutchie was quick to drag him into the large, open and brightly lit room, and Jack struggled to look calm and collected, relaxed and nonchalant. He gave a slight nod, his hands deeply buried in his pockets. He felt as if, maybe, he could handle this, as long as they didn't start coming after him.

"Jack, huh? What are you in here for?" One of the kids asked, and Jack stared at the boy, a pale, skinny thing with dark circles around his eyes, red marks marring his neck and hands.  
Jack could tell this kid used to be a druggie, and he was taking cold turkey pretty rough.

"None of your business, friend." He answered, crossing his arms.  
Druggie smirked, and snorted.  
"You don't gotta tell us, we'll figure it out eventually."

"Oh yeah? How's that? 'Cause just from looking at you, I can tell you had a pretty big drug issue. Lemme guess, daddy didn't pay attention to you, so you went to go find something better?" It poured out of his mouth, but this time he meant it.  
It was all silent, and Jack felt Crutchie tense up beside him.

"You little son of a-" In a moment, the kid was rushing him, fists flying, but Jack was bigger. He wouldn't hit back. He couldn't.

"Racetrack, stop!" Jack barely heard the shout over the sounds of yelling and jeers, encouraging the two to fight, though a few of the boys hung back. Jack felt a hand grip his hood and haul him backwards. He tripped over his own feet, landing hard on his back, and suddenly, Races was on top of him, laying into him. It was all he could do to cover his face, fighting every urge to knock this kid flat on his ass.  
Then, he didn't want to fight himself. He wanted to fight Races. His hands balled into fists, and he was ready to strike, but suddenly, Races was being lifted off of him, and he was being hauled to his feet. The mob of boys had been dispersed, and holding onto a struggling Racetrack was Weisel. Jack was suddenly aware of both of his wrists being held tightly, and as he looked to his left, he saw Katherine, a sour, disappointed glare on her delicate features. To his right, however, was Crutchie, gripping his hand with his own free one. His hat was askew, and his cheeks were bright red, his chest heaving. It was clear that he was the one who'd run to get the nurses and stop the fight.  
"What in God's name is wrong with you two?!" Weisel snapped, and Jack suddenly jerked free.  
"Why don't you just read my chart and find out, Weasel?! I'm getting the hell out of this place, and none of you freaks can stop me!" He spun on his heel, ready to storm out, but Crutchie was suddenly in his way, both hands raised in a mixture of defense and fear.  
"Look, Jack, let's just think this through, right? It's only the first day, just wait it out, okay?" He was trying so hard, but Jack didn't care. He wasn't thinking. Taking a step forward, he gave Crutchie a hard shove. He didn't even know he'd done it until the other boy was on the ground, and Jack was unprepared for the abrupt uproar that burst forth at his actions, and had it not been for Katherine's pulling him out of the way, Jack was certain the boys would have bled him if they'd gotten to him. A young man with thick glasses was the first to Crutchie's side, pulling him up and wrapping an arm around his torso as another kid with an eye patch handed him his crutch.  
Jack felt awful. He'd not meant to hurt the smaller boy, and even now, Crutchie was assuring everyone that he was fine, casting looks at Jack as Katherine escorted him out.

"Jack Kelly, that is **not** what I meant when I said mingling! You're lucky this is your first time, but next time this happens, you'll be sent to solitary!" She was exasperated as she scolded him, and Jack could only stare back in disbelief.

"Are you serious?! That punk started it! He was beating up on me!" He tried to defend himself.

"And which one of you pushed Charlie? Crutchie, I mean. I have no doubts he'll forgive you, but for now... you need to be away from the others. Come on, lets get you to your room."

This made Jack burst out in spiteful laughter, staying rooted to the spot.  
"My room? Yeah, I guess you didn't know you stuck me with a psychopath. He kicked me out, I can't get back in there."

"Don't call him that." Katherine sighed, rubbing her temples.  
"I know he's hard to get along with, Jack, but it's against policy to let people like you room alone. We're gonna talk to him, come with me. Don't make me hold your hand." She threatened, and Jack wasn't going to fight her. What was the point?

"Look, Katherine... I just want to leave. I've already made a huge mess of this place, and I'm not gonna get better. I'm not gonna make any friends, and it's not gonna be like the movies." He tried to convince her as the two walked towards 172.

"Jack, Crutchie is your friend. He's always so happy and nice, but he never follows people around or tries to protect people the way he has with you."

The words were strange to him, but as he thought about it, he knew that the woman was right. He fell silent as they reached the room, deciding to let her do the talking this time.

_-_-_-_

After two and a half days of haggling with Katherine, Davey had finally agreed to share his room with Jack. He'd left the room an hour or so earlier, leaving the young man all alone. Having nothing better to do, Jack slept, feeling the peace of his own mind, preferring being alone to fighting for his life.  
He wanted to sleep forever, but of course... He was jerked from his dream by a knocking on his door, and whoever it was opened without awaiting an answer.  
"Hey, Jack, it's dinner time, you coming?" Davey's voice broke the silence, and like a groggy toddler, Jack pushed the blanket away from his face. The room was dark now, the curtains still drawn, though a bit of orange light leaked onto the checkerboard floor. From the doorway, white light bled into the room, making Jack sit up and rub his eyes.  
"I don't got a choice, do I?"

"Nope."

Jack sighed, climbing out of bed before realizing he'd taken off his hoodie, and his arms were completely exposed. Dozens of scars, lining his arms. His stomach was exposed, his shirt hiked up from sleep. Upon his abdomen, dozens more of the thin white lines lay, and Jack could see the look on Davey's face.  
"I... Uh, I'll see you there, then." The kid spun on his heel and left the room, leaving Jack to grab his jacket and run after him.  
He was panicking. No one was supposed to find out. He wanted to get out of this place without people looking at him like he was something kind of freak, or giving him all these sympathetic looks.  
"Dammit... Davey, come on, wait for me!" Jack called out, hauling his sweatshirt over his head as he ran. Catching up to him, he noticed that Davey wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Don't tell them. Please." He found himself begging the other kid. Davey didn't answer, he only cast a look at Jack, his eyes tracing up his now covered body.

"Look, I don't want them to know. I'm not in a good place right now with them, and it would really help me out if you just... Please, pal."

The dark haired boy looked over, chewing his lips.  
"Don't be ashamed of them. You shouldn't hide them. The rest of us... We're like you. This is a safe place, when you don't pick fights." He gave a knowing look, and after a moment's pause, Jack cracked a smile.

"You know, Davey, you ain't too bad. But you know some of us, we ain't as comfortable with our, uh..." He motioned to himself, an awkward movement.  
"I get it though. I don't know squat about half the people here. You and Crutchie, you two are my only friends, and I don't know why he's here."

"You don't have to know. Most of the time, you just have to wait." Davey said, keeping his eyes on the tile floor.  
"I didn't mean to find out about you. I try not to talk about the others, they'll tell you when you're ready."

Jack could understand that, but it didn't change the fact that he didn't want the attention. He sighed, running a hand through messy hair.

"I'm still kind of curious about you, though. They don't just stick a kid with OCD in a psych ward."

Davey frowned, looking up at him.  
"Severe OCD. I had a meltdown, and my family thought this would be best for me. They're coming to visit me in a couple weeks, you should meet them." He finished with a smile, and Jack nodded, smiling lightly.

The two arrived at the cafeteria together, though they parted as Davey went and sat next to Racetrack and his 'cronies', the guys who refused to sit next to Jack, or even talk to him. Damn, did Jack have it in for him.  
Once he got him alone, he'd show just what kind of guy he-  
"Hey, Jack!" Looking around as he heard his name called, Jack smiled softly as he saw Crutchie making his way to him.

"How ya doin', Jack? Haven't see ya in a few days." He smiled brightly, nudging the older boy with his shoulder.

"I been worse, Crutchie. Davey's actually... being kinda nice. It's refreshin'."

"What'd I tell ya? Katherine took care of it, right?" The blond grinned, and something about a smile like that made Jack laugh quietly as he watched his face.  
"You wanna get something to eat?" Jack asked, and suddenly, Crutchie's smile was gone, and he looked a little anxious.

"Yeah, I guess." He mumbled, limping ahead to grab a tray of food from the line, Jack just behind him, grabbing one for himself.  
He watched as the smaller walked with his tray in hand, his coordination obviously uninhibited by his leg. It was pretty neat, to Jack.  
Crutchie led the way to an empty table, sitting down and setting his crutch beside him, watching Jack as he sat across from him.  
Dinner looked unappetizing, some sort of brown mush, and the kid could only assume it was some kind of bean...stuff. Jack sighed, taking a bite of it and finding that it tasted far better than it looked. He ate it happily, but as he looked at his friend, Jack noticed that he was merely poking at his food, staring at it like it was something he hated, something he wished he could live without. He sighed, poking at it halfheartedly.  
That's when it hit Jack.  
Crutchie was anorexic.  
He was looking around anxiously, watching the nurses who watched him right back. It was clear to Jack now, and even if he'd only known Crutchie for three days, Jack began to feel protective over him.  
"Hey, Crutch." He said gently, and the boy looked up, his eyes widening slightly.

"You really oughtta eat. The sooner you eat, the sooner you can get outta here." It was meant to be comforting, but the smaller kid only laughed softly, giving a bit of a shrug as he pushed the food around on his plate.

"I'm fine, Jack. See?" He lifted the spoon to his lips, but Jack wasn't stupid.

"C'mon, Crutchie, more than that." He encouraged him, taking a bite of his own.

Jack never got impatient, and by the time he'd finished his meal, so had Crutchie.

"So how did that appointment with Dr. Pulitzer go?" As Crutchie was finishing up, he asked.

Jack didn't think to tell anyone about it, but it'd gone terribly.  
He recalled it in his mind's eye, though it'd been days ago.  
Jack had walked into Pulitzer's office at two o' five, and walked back out at two thirty. No way was he gonna sit there and listen to the garbage that this old fart was spouting about how he thought he knew anything about Jack's past.  
He'd shouted at the man, then gone straight to Weisel, and had him change his doctor to Ms. Larkson.  
And yet, Jack couldn't find it in his heart to tell Crutchie the truth.  
"It went great. They switched me to Larkson, though." He said, giving a light shrug. Immediately, Jack could tell that the others didn't believe him for a second.  
"Sure, Jack."  
_-_-_  
A week dragged on, and Race was leading a game of poker at the card table, Specs and Romeo to his left, both sharing a hand, since Romeo had no clue how to play. To his right, Kid Blink was slipping aces up his sleeve.  
On the floor, Jack was halfway participating in the game, sitting knee to knee with Crutchie. Atop Jack's head sat Crutchie's grey beanie, and across from the two, Davey read quietly, some old novel about killing mockingbirds.  
Standing up, Jack strode around the table, careful to keep his eyes on his own cards as he went. One by one, each of the kids laid down their cards, and a rush of happiness went through the young man as he set down his cards.  
"Sorry, fellas, I guess I win again." Jack chuckled as he swept up the scraps of paper that they used in place of betting chips.

"I don't believe this! No way! No way can you win as many times as you do, Jack!" Kid Blink was on his feet in a second, an accusatory finger pointed straight at Jack. The young man feigned being offended, leaning over Race's shoulder with a smirk, but was surprised as the gambler stood up suddenly.  
He'd not realized that today was one of Racetrack's bad days, a harsh withdrawal swinging his mood from calm to foul every few minutes, and apparently Jack had caught him in a bad one.  
"I don't think you're bein' honest with me, Jack, you ain't cheatin', are you?" Race cracked his knuckles, and Jack took a step back, ready for the brawl that was coming.  
"Jack, Race, come on, fellas-" Crutchie began, grabbing onto Davey's arm as the taller pulled him to his feet, tucking his crutch under his arm and hobbling quickly between the two larger boys.  
"Crutchie, back off." Jack placed a hand against his chest, pushing him backwards gently, but Race grabbed his wrist, flinging his hand away abruptly.  
"Why don't you try keeping your hands off him?" He snapped. This brought a swell of anger to Jack's chest, and he squared up his shoulders, glaring.  
"Back off, Race. You don't want a fight."

"How the hell would you know, Kelly? You don't know nothin' about me, 'cept clearly how t' piss me off!" Race came at him, issuing a harsh shove, making Jack stumble slightly, but he came back, pushing twice as hard, and throwing the kid down on his ass.  
"I told you, Higgins, to back off."

No reply came. No one congratulated him. No one patted his back. In fact, all eyes were on the doorway, behind him.  
A slow turn later, and Jack saw what everyone else seemed to be so afraid of.  
Standing in the doorway was a kid, his eyes dark with fury.  
"Heya, Spot!" Jack had put up his fists, ready for a fight, but Crutchie had leaped in front of him.  
"We missed ya, Spot, Race especially! This is Jack, by the way, he's real nice. Well, I mean, when Race ain't starting fights with him, right?" The smooth talking young man was trying to calm Spot down, but it didn't work.  
Instead of calming, Spot kicked out suddenly. Jack jumped forward, but it was too late. The crutch fell to the ground, but the tough guy caught Crutchie, delivering a harsh blow to the his jaw and letting him drop.  
"Crutchie!" Jack dove forward in an attempt to pull his friend out of danger, but Conlon caught him by the collar, a snarl on his lips.  
"Let go of me, you sonofa-" Jack struggled, but all he got was a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He struggled against the kid, but holy hell, he was strong, his fist repeatedly bruising his ribs, his hand holding onto his hood.  
How many more gut punches could he take?  
Jack didn't know, but he did **not** want to lose this fight. If he was ever going to prove himself, he needed to show them. He has to show them that he wasn't going to let his friends get hurt and let a bully get away with it.  
He caught glances of the other guys in the room between punches.  
Davey had gotten an unconscious Crutchie out of the way, Romeo was crying, Specs was trying to block his view, and Racetrack was just... standing there.  
No one was going to help him.  
So, with a quick and hard twist, Jack pulled free, backing up a few feet to catch his breath, but Spot followed him, his shoulders squared, and his face fixed into a glare that could probably kill someone. Even though Jack was taller than him, this kid was way buffer, and he looked like he ate nails for breakfast.  
"You think you can come in here and push my boys around? You think I was gonna let you?" He snarled, following slowly as Jack backed into the hallway, drawing Spot away so that there was little chance of anyone else getting hurt.  
Jack didn't wanna fight this guy. He just wanted to get back to Crutchie, to see if he was okay.  
Wait a second, he did wanna fight this guy. No one beats up on his boys and gets away with it.  
"Come on, Conlon, let's see what else you got." Jack put up his fists, and a devilish smirk appeared on Spot's lips as he stepped forward, and threw a punch. Jack dodged, and threw one of his own, nailing the kid straight in the kisser.  
A stunned look passed over Spot's puss, and Jack smirked, raising his hands in a sarcastic gesture. His opponent bared bloody teeth, taking a lot less time to recover than Jack anticipated. The smaller boy came at him two punches coming at Jack's face. One caught the bridge of his nose, the next his cheek. He was disoriented for a moment, but anger boiled up in his chest, more than there already was, anyway, and Jack blacked out.

Shouting woke Jack from his stupor, and the first thing he noticed was that his hands hurt like hell.  
The next was that he was kneeling on the cold floor, over someone. Someone who was breathing, but unconscious. Had... Had Jack done that? He stood up slowly and stepped back, and realizing suddenly that he wasn't alone in the hallway. Around him stood several security officers, accompanied by a disappointed looking Katherine.  
"Hang on, I didn't- He..." Jack tried desperately to defend himself, but the guards weren't having it. They turned him around so that he was facing the rec room as they handcuffed him. Though Jack was still getting his mind back together, he could see Racetrack standing there, a look of respect on his face. Romeo and Specs were nowhere to be found, and Jack could only assume that they were hiding from the fighting.  
Crutchie and Davey, however, were standing together, watching Jack be arrested. Neither were trying to defend him, neither trying to help.  
"Come on, Mr. Kelly. Nice and easy, no fighting." The guard began to pull him along, guiding him down the hallway.

Jack wasn't paying attention to where they were they were taking him. All he could think about is how his arms burned and itched, the stress and anxiety clawing at him.  
Spot had taken out some kid.  
So what? Jack should have just walked away. He didn't need Crutchie. He didn't need Davey.  
Then why had he gotten so angry?  
He was not getting involved, he wouldn't get in too deep. Right?

It felt like they'd been walking for hours, but finally, they stopped, one of the guard's holding Jack's wrists tightly while the other stepped forward, typing in a passcode to the keypad on the wall. A large white door swung open, and his handcuffs were removed before he was pushed into the room, and the door was shut behind him.

The room was small, completely white with one small window six feet up the wall. A metal framed bed was pushed to one side, a thin mattress sat upon it with a folded blanket and pillow neatly arranged.

Rather than sitting down on the bed, Jack shoved it away from the corner, the metallic screech echoing painfully through his ears, but he didn't care. He took the blanket and pillow and tossed them into the little hole he'd made between the wall and the frame before following himself, curling up on the floor.  
He struggled to push away the thoughts that clouded his mind, the burning in his arms, the darkness swirling around him.  
Jack was certain he'd been getting better, but now... he wasn't so sure.  
_-_-_

Jack lost track of time, sitting in that room. They brought him food, and he ate, just to please them, but he couldn't help but wonder how Crutchie was doing without someone making him eat. He'd been doing really well before. Jack hoped Davey was watching out for him.  
Doctor Larkson, a slim older lady with firey red hair and a fun-loving attitude, had visited him several times.  
The first time, Jack had barely spoken, but she'd still sat with him, her pink boots tapping as she hummed some old showtune.  
The second, she'd brought him some candy, and that had chipped away at the hard shelling on his personality. He'd talked about why he was in the little room, and he'd asked her about Crutchie and Davey. She'd not answered him.

The third time, she'd asked about his family. He told her that his mother was dead and his father was a scumbag in a prison somewhere out west. She'd asked about his scars. He'd not answered her.

The fourth time, she asked again about his scars, asking him how many he had. He couldn't answer her. He asked about his friends again. She couldn't answer him.

Apparently, three days passed in solitary confinement before Katherine came to get him.  
He'd been laying on the floor, staring up at the textured ceiling, rubbing his bruised knuckles when the door opened, and the woman was standing there, a light smile on her face. Jack hadn't spoken much as she led him back to his room, which, to his surprise, was empty. He figured Davey was in the rec room with the others. After changing his clothes, Jack ventured out, still a bit wary of the large halls. Anyone could be waiting for him, and he really didn't want to go back to the little white room.  
The walk was short, though it felt like it lasted forever. Maybe it was the weighing dread in his chest that made him slow so much.  
This was why he paused outside of the rec room, watching the boys.  
Specs, Romeo, Kid Blink and Davey were sat around the table this time, a board game laid out before them. Davey drew a card, and grimaced as he moved his character piece to the corner of the board, the other boy's laughing as he did. A little ways behind them, laying across the couch, Spot was dozing, Race sitting on his legs as he some sort of sporting event on the television.  
Jack's heart sank considerably as he didn't see the one he was looking for at first, and this gave him cause to enter the room, and for the first time, no one stared. Instead, Davey was up on his feet and at his side in a matter of moments, a smile on his face.  
"Jack, you're back! You look terrible, but at least you're out, right?" Jack couldn't help but chuckle lightly at that as he looked around.  
"Yeah, well, when you stand up for yourself around here, apparently you-"

"Hey, Kelly!"  
The voice was low and gruff, and Jack looked over to see that it was Spot Conlon, his hair ruffled from sleep, his shirt rumpled from what Jack could only assume was extracurriculars with Racetrack. The two boys were up now, and Jack found himself slightly amused that himself and Davey were taller than both Spot and Race.

"Look, Spot, if you're looking for another fight-" Jack began, but the kid raised a hand, and he closed his mouth.  
He could see the evidence of their fight still on Spot's face; the bruises on his jaw and the black eye were fading, but still rather bright on his face.  
"I don't want a fight, Jack. I wanted to tell you that you ain't half bad. And that I'm sorry for beatin' on your boys. As long as we both keep our toes in line, I won't have to come after you again, right? We got a deal?" Spot spoke slowly, like a deliberate leader. Jack could tell he meant what he said.

"Yeah, sure. Deal." Jack found himself in agreement with the kid, despite the urge to knock him out in retribution for Crutchie. He still hadn't seen him around...

"Good." Spot's voice brought him back to reality, and did something that Jack was quite familiar with from his days in grade school. Spitting in his open palm, Spot held a peaceful hand out for him to shake, and it only took a moment for Jack to copy the action, shaking his hand quickly.

"That is disgusting." The older boy couldn't help but laugh at Davey's words, and Race grinned as the two leaders wiped their hands on their jeans.  
"Nah, that's business, Davey."

The boys hung around for a little while, making friendly like Katherine had asked, before Jack was beginning to get anxious. Crutchie wasn't cured, there was no way he'd been discharged. That left a few options. The most optimistic of which was that he was in his room. The least was that he'd gotten himself locked up. The thought made Jack's throat tighten up.  
Why the hell was he getting so emotional over some kid who wouldn't even talk to him about his past? He didn't like to think that he was hurt at all, but if that's what it came to...  
Jack waved goodbye to his new pals as he ventured out of the room, heading to the nurses station.  
To his chagrin, Weisel was the only one at the desk.

"Look who's out of the box! How are we today, Jailbird Kelly?" Weisel smirked, leaning forward as Jack placed his palms on the desk.

"Where's Crutchie, Weasel?"  
_-_-_  
He was so tired.  
He didn't want to fight anymore.  
It'd always been this way. He'd get attached to someone, and he'd get them in trouble. They'd get hurt. That's why he tried to keep to himself.  
Crutchie laid in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling with dark eyes, the red circles beneath them nearly impossible to hide. He lacked his usual happiness and joy, and it was all because of people trying to take care of him. He hated this. He couldn't do it.  
A shaky breath left his pale lips as he laid back, tears tracking their way down his face. He didn't want people to see him like this. Maybe if he got some sleep he'd feel better, but his thoughts were bogged down by green eyes and brown hair, strong arms and a contagious laugh.  
Damn him.  
It was actually getting a little frustrating.  
Crutchie had been stuck in this place for almost four months. Progress was slow, he was eating a little at every meal, socializing, sleeping at night, he'd even helped some of the guys get healed up quicker. That was his thing. He didn't think of himself first. He always cared for others before himself, and apparently, that was his problem. Him and his mom, before she...  
Well, they weren't rich folks. They didn't always have food. And his mom, she was real sick.  
He didn't want to think about her.  
Careful of his wires, Crutchie rolled onto his side, his back to the door as he stared out the window, taking in his city. Cars rushed by by, honking and screeching around. They didn't know about the kids in this hospital. They probably didn't care either.  
Letting out a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would come to him.  
A knock sounded on the door behind him, and he sighed as it opened without waiting for a reply.  
"Look, I appreciate you comin' in, but I don't really wanna see no one right now." He wasn't in the mood to deal with doctors or nurses right now.

"You'd really kick out your best friend?"

The voice that met his ears was so familiar, and as he sat up rapidly, Crutchie grinned from ear to ear.  
Jack's own smile faltered as he took in the other boy's appearance, and suddenly, Crutchie regretted his reaction.

"Heya, Jack." He said softly, turning his body so he could look at him better.

"Heya, Crutchie." The older boy walked straight up to the bed, grabbing a chair and facing it backwards, straddling it so he could lean on his exposed arms.  
The sight made Crutchie's breath catch in his throat, and tears well in his eyes. He wanted to say something. Anything. But no words came.

"Looks like we need to talk, huh, pal?" Jack said gently.  
"What's the matter with you, kid? I leave for three days, and suddenly you quit eating? I thought you was gettin' better." He leaned back in his chair, and Crutchie looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

"I got you thrown in there." He mumbled.  
"If I'd 'a just kept my mouth shut, they wouldn't 'a put you in that room. I'm sorry, Jack..." He mumbled, looking back at him.

He expected him to get up and leave. He expected anger.  
What he got, he did not expect.  
A gentle hand fit into his, careful of the I.V wire protruding from it.

"That wasn't your fault, Crutchie. That was mine. But I wasn't gonna let Spot Conlon push my boy around and get away with it." Jack was adamant as he squeezed the younger boy's fingers.

It was silent for a long while, and the tension filling the air told Crutchie exactly what Jack wanted to know.  
"I'll tell ya about my past if ya get up here." He mumbled, tugging the hand gently. The smirk that appeared on Jack's lips was encouraging enough, and Crutchie scooted over to make room for him beside him. Jack climbed up, sitting with his legs crossed before taking his hand again.  
"Alright, you gonna talk, or are we just gonna sit here all day?" He asked, making Crutchie smile softly before taking a deep breath.

"Alright. I was born and raised in lower Manhattan, my dad died when I was a kid, and my mom... well, she was real sick. Ever since I was little, I can remember takin' care of her. I even got a paper route to get some extra money." He paused to look at Jack's expectant face, feeling the older man's thumb stroking his hand.  
"One day, I was on my route, and I, uh... fell off my bike into the street. Hit and run driver crushed my leg, and no one was around. I ended up crawling to a liquor store and they took me to the hospital. I was ten. We waited for my leg to heal, and it healed like this... Mom couldn't afford to have it fixed, but I didn't mind it. We hit some rough times, and I had to quit my job to take care of her, so whatever food we got was from the homeless shelter or the church, and I gave mine to her. I was fifteen when she died, and I got put into foster care. They sent me here, when I stopped eating. I been here for a little while, and it's the nicest place I've ever lived."

Crutchie didn't realize he'd started crying until felt the sweet salt on his lips, and as his eyes fell on Jack, he saw the heartbroken look on his face.

"I told ya. I don't like bringing people down with my sob stories." Crutchie looked away shyly as he wiped his eyes, not expecting the pair of arms that wrapped around his waist in a gentle hug.

"You don't have to be ashamed of that, Crutchie." The soft voice in his made him turn back, seeing Jack practically in his lap. He took a shaky breath, giving a light shrug.  
"Nah, other people have it way worse than me, Jack." He answered, looking down at the pale skin of Jack's arms. The older man followed his gaze, and let him go, backing up quickly.

"That doesn't mean you don't deserve someone looking out for you. I guess I owe you an explanation, huh?" Jack gave a dry, awkward laugh.

"You don't have to if you don't wanna, Jack." Crutchie said softly, reaching back out for his hand. Their fingers laced together, he could see Jack relax.

"No, I guess I gotta tell someone, right?" He ran his free hand through his hair.  
"I lived in New Mexico with my parents till I was twelve. We moved here and my ma was killed when some idiot robbed the bank she worked at and shot her. Turns out the guy worked for my dad, who was a leader of an underground crime syndicate. Dad got arrested, I ran. I got an apartment, and tried to kill myself four- no, five times."

The words were like knives cutting straight into Crutchie's chest, and all he could wonder is how Jack Kelly was even alive.  
What was he supposed to say to someone who'd just opened up to him like that, let every flaw, scar and wound show?  
He did the only thing he could think of. Grabbing Jack's other hand, he pulled him close and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, his heartrate spiking embarrassingly on the monitor.  
Letting go, he swallowed hard and let out an awkward laugh, looking down at his lap, not allowing himself to see the look on Jack's face.  
The silence was deafening as the two boys sat there, but Jack was the one to break it.  
"Hey, uh... Crutchie?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Yeah, Jack."

"Can I kiss you back?"

"Yeah, Jack."

And that is how Katherine found the two boys, Crutchie curled up, sound asleep in Jack's arms, the older boy's lips still resting again the younger's temple.  
_-_-_

The rec room was calm for once, the television quieted considerably, given the fact that Race was sitting on the floor, playing solitaire by himself, glancing up every so often to watch the horse races, mumbling a name on occasion.  
He used to be worse. He used to go to every race he could, bet every time, and win every time. That, plus his high school buddies offering him coke to give them tips on the races. Soon, what they were offering wasn't enough for him, and he began buying, spending all his money. After months of this, his relationship with his mother and father crumbled, and his old family friend, Doctor Medda Larkson, had begged him to come to her facility. And she had helped him. He'd broken his drug addiction, and now they were just waiting for the terrible withdrawals to stop.  
The young man grinned as his horse finished first, and he looked down, sorting cards again, hardly looking up when a certain brawler sat down beside him.

"Can I help you's, Spot?" Race asked, glancing over at the boy, who smirked.

"Just thought I'd come bother you for a little while. I know how much you like me in your business." Spot gave a sly wink, and Race rolled his eyes.

"Says who? Are you bettin' on a horse or not?"

"Says you, and no, you always win. If Katherine finds out you have this on, she'll send you to Larkson."

Race groaned, scooting forward and pressing the power button on the small television, watching as the screen fizzled out.

"There, happy?" He asked, and Spot shrugged, scooting closer to him to watch his skilled fingers play through the whole deck rapidly.

"You wanna play something?" Race finally asked, looking up and finding his face mere inches from Spot's.

"Sure."

The two boys had history. Lots of history.  
Strictly speaking, it was Spot's fault that Race was in this joint.  
Spot had been Race's dealer. It was quite a shock when the two had been introduced in the ward. That'd been followed by Race falling into a deep depression, and was moved from sharing a room with Spot to rooming with Romeo.

Race dealt cards in a game of Snap, and tossed down a card, waiting for Spot to the same.  
"You know you ruined my life, right?"

"Yep." Spot slammed his hand down, a split second before Race's landed atop his. The two lifted away placing cards again.

"Something tells me you're gonna thank me for it later, though." Spot's words made Race look up, a scowl on his lips.

"Why the hell would I thank you for getting me trapped here?"

"Because-" The two slammed their hands down again, and this time, Spot kept his tightly over Race's.  
"You haven't tried to kill me. I think that says something about you, huh?"

Race frowned, looking down at their hands.  
"It says that I just want to go home. You think you're so great, don't ya?"

"I'm pretty sure you think I'm great too, Racetrack Higgins." Spot smirked, leaning down into his line of sight, forcing Race to meet his eyes.

"You's full of yourself."

"Whatever you say."

A smile played over Race's lips, and looked down, turning his hand over to lace their fingers together.  
"You're lucky you're cute; I woulda soaked you when I got the chance."

Another point on the all elbows relationship- Race couldn't seem to leave Spot behind. Ever since they were stupid teenagers, getting high and groping each other in any private- or public- place they could. Everyone had disapproved of the two being together. Since Spot was from Brooklyn, and Race was a lower Manhattan kid, and it was common knowledge that a combination of those two was just like a remake of West Side Story. Not that Race had ever watched West Side Story, of course.  
Even though both had been separated, time and time again, they'd come back to each other.  
It was pathetic. Spot would be the first to admit it.  
A gambler and a drug dealer, stuck together in a mental hospital? Was someone writing a bad novel? But even now, as the two curled together against the couch, cuddling like a stupid, adorable couple, Spot didn't regret a thing.  
_-_-_  
Jack didn't really have anything against large group, but given the fact that Katherine had ordered him from Crutchie's bedside once again, he wasn't thrilled to be there.  
Large group was supposed to be a place where everyone talked about their feelings, but given the fact that everyone except Romeo, (who'd woken up screaming several times during the night, and the only way to comfort him, aside from talking to Doctor Larkson, was to allow him to stay with Specs, who'd been more than happy to oblige,) had had a good day, the large group had dissolved into art group.  
Jack and Davey sat at a table with pencils and construction paper, both doodling without paying much attention.  
Davey really wasn't an artist, but on his page, there was an open window, purple curtains blowing in the invisible wind. Pieces of paper, tossed about by this imaginary wind decorated that make believe scene. Jack couldn't help but wonder what it meant, but his friend seemed somewhere between happy and anxious.  
Jack was drawing a lion and a three legged dog. The creatures looked hyper realistic, like they were going to climb off the page at any moment. The lion was guarding the puppy, it's fangs bared as it curled around the happy looking canine. The thought had just come to him, though now, it seemed silly.  
"Jack, I have to tell you something." The words brought ice to the man's stomach, and he frowned, setting down his pencil to signal that he was paying attention.

"What is it, Dave?" He'd found himself becoming more and more open to listening to other people's problems, and solving not only theirs, but his own.  
Davey took a deep breath, drawing on the corner of his paper with blue crayon.

"My family is coming to visit me in a few hours." He said, and Jack nodded. He'd been talking about this for days.

"Yeah? That all?"

"No." The other boy swallowed hard, looking up at Jack.  
"I'm leaving. The hospital is discharging me and I'm going home today."

The words were stunning, and not sarcastically. Jack couldn't quite take it in.

"Uh... congrats, Davey. That's really great." He said, his voice quiet and somewhat disappointed.

"Don't look like that, Jack, you know you're my best friend. I wish I didn't have to leave any of you guys behind." Davey sighed, looking down at his art before sliding it over to Jack.  
"It's not like I'm never gonna see you again."

This made the artist feel a twinge of bitterness in his chest as he stared at Davey.

"How do you know that?" He asked, crossing his arms.

Davey looked a little surprised, but Jack couldn't blame him. He was struggling to control his temper. He should have been happy for him. He should have been hugging him and congratulating him, but he was... angry. Angry that he was being left again. Who was he supposed to talk to now, Spot and Race? There was no way.  
Sure, he still had Crutchie, and even Romeo, but they weren't Davey. They didn't share a room with him for nearly a month.

"You just gotta... hope, I guess."

The words were like a red hot iron poker being jammed into Jack's chest.  
"Hope? Really? You could say that, couldn't you? You get to go home with your folks and the rest of us get to just wither away and die here?" He knew the words were unfair, and yet, he couldn't stop them.  
"How the hell is that fair? Why does everyone always leave me?!"  
When did he get on his feet?  
The look of anguish on Davey's face began to pull Jack back into reality, and in this reality, everyone in the room, including Doctor Larkson was staring. Embarrassment began to set in, and he was suddenly stepping back, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

"I... I didn't. .. Davey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it." Jack whispered softly, looking down at the kid. He swallowed hard, but have a light nod.  
"It's fine, Jack, I get it." He whispered, looking down at his drawing.  
"I'm sorry."

Jack couldn't take it. Someone was apologizing for a great achievement. Because he'd yelled at him.

"I... I have to go." Jack couldn't hang around. He was embarrassed and angry, what else could he do? He just needed to breathe.  
And so, ignoring the shouts from Davey and Dr. Larkson , Jack fled the room, not really knowing where he was going.

He wanted out. He wanted to go home, he couldn't handle it right now. He was so tired, so sick of being left...  
Crutchie was getting better by the day, and when he got out, Jack knew he'd be sent to a foster home. The chances of them lasting...

It all was taking away his hope. What was the point of any it?

Jack's legs faltered, and a noise of anger, fear and sadness left his throat as he slid against the rough wall. He didn't care if there were people around. He was breaking again, and he couldn't stop himself.  
A broken sob left his lips as he held his head in his hands, though he could feel no tears in his eyes. All he felt was pain. His arms and stomach burned, like all of his scars were lighting up, and were going to catch him on fire.

"Jack?"

Of course. The teen sat up, rubbing his face before opening his eyes, though he was a bit stunned at what he saw.  
Romeo stood in the hall, his hands at his sides, wearing a tee shirt. He was getting better, day by day, and his bruises had almost healed completely.

"Are you okay? That was a stupid question, sorry. Can I sit with you?"

Jack was still in shock, but he nodded, scooting over on the cold linoleum. He could see the dark circles under Romeo's eyes, evidence of his rough night, but he didn't guess that he looked much better.

"I heard what you said in group." The kid turned to look at Jack, who looked down in embarrassment.

"It doesn't mean anything, it's stupid. I should have shut my mouth." He muttered.

"No, I get it. You're stuck here and you don't have that many friends. You don't wanna be alone. I get it. I just don't think you're gonna be all alone. If Specs and Race got out and I was still here, I'd be a mess. I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can't give up, now that Davey's leaving. Even if Crutchie leaves before you. You have to keep going, cause if they go, and you're still here, and you get stuck here, your chances of meeting back up with them are like, zero." Romeo had just said more than Jack had heard him say in the entire time he'd known him, and in one string of words, he'd basically saved him.  
He was silent for a moment, and Romeo's face showed that he feared he'd said too much, but Jack looked over at him, and nodded, resting his head against the kid's shoulder for a few seconds.  
"Thanks, Romeo. You just helped me out a lot."  
_-_-_

Davey was pacing back and forth in front of the nurse's station, his eyes trained on the door that his family would be entering through. He was dying to see them, especially with Jack's outburst.  
He wasn't angry with him. Jack was his best friend, he knew he'd not meant his painful words.  
"Hey, Davey." The soft voice drew his attention, and a sigh left his lips as he saw Jack coming down the hallway, his feet dragging.

"Hey, Jack. You okay?" Davey asked, leaning against the countertop.  
The taller man nodded, his hands in his pants pockets.

"Sorry about earlier, I was just..."

"Forget about it." Davey answered, waving his hand dismissively.  
Jack answered with a wide grin, punching Davey's arm gently.

"I am gonna miss ya, pal." He promised, and Davey's chest tightened, nodding slightly.

"I'll miss you too. But I can text you, can't I? I mean, if you have a phone." It sounded insensitive as it fell from his lips, and he found himself cringing.

"Nah, I don't, but I think I still got a Facebook." Jack smirked, opening his mouth to speak, but he cut off suddenly as the door at the end of the hallway flew open, and Katherine entered. Behind her, small group of people followed, and Davey's eyes welled up with tears.

His family.

"Davey!" The smallest, his younger brother, Les, came running at him, slamming into him so hard that he stumbled back. A jovial laugh left him as he hugged his brother tightly. Following Les, his sister Sarah squeezed him tightly, then his parents, his mother sporting tear stains on her cheeks as they chattered at him, asking him how he was. He answered each question, the joy on his face impossible to hide before he remembered Jack, standing a few feet to his right. The boy looked awkward, as if he thought they might come after him and attack him.  
"Hey, guys, this is my friend, Jack. He's been my roommate for about a month."

Davey's father turned to Jack, and Davey could see the kid square up, making himself seem large and confident. He held out his hand for the older man to shake, and Davey was pleased when he obliged, giving the hand a firm shake.

"What's wrong with your arms?"

The question from Les made Davey's blood run cold, but Jack seemed unaffected, though he glanced at Davey for support.

"Uh... Well, Jack, see... He's a knight. He fights battles, and sometimes he gets hurt, but... He's not gonna stop fighting until he wins. He earned his battle scars, but I think he's winning." Davey improvised the words, but the look on Jack's face suggested that he'd been given a million bucks.

"Are you really a knight?" Les asked Jack, who gave a slight nod.

"Yeah, but so's your brother. He's probably one of the bravest guys I ever met. You gotta learn from him, alright, kid?" Jack said, kneeling down so he was face to face with Les.  
Davey looked up as his mother rested a hand on his shoulder.

"You have a habit of making friends in odd places, my darling." She said, and Davey just shrugged, smiling softly.

"I know. But the friends I made here... They're good." He replied, and he couldn't help but notice the look his sister kept giving Jack. He'd have to break that news to her later.

As his father went to the desk to sign the release form, Davey went to Jack's side, trying to think of a way to say goodbye without all the heartache of it all.

"See ya on the other side?" Jack was the first to offer a proper farewell, and Davey nodded, accepting it with gritted teeth to fend off the tears that were surely coming. He felt them, prickling at the corners of his eyes, but he had to keep them down.

"You're gonna look out for Romeo and Crutchie, right? And Racetrack?" He questioned, his voice breaking slightly. Jack swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly.

"Of course. Cause you're gonna look out for them when they get out. And I'm gonna see you when I finish up my valiant battle, hear me?" The taller poked him in the chest, and Davey laughed quietly, pushing the finger away.

"I'll do it if you promise to try. Talk to the doctors. Don't get in fights. Take your meds, got it, Kelly?"

"Yeah, alright. Don't tell me what to do, kid. I don't wanna see your face around here again, Jacobs."

The two couldn't help but laugh at their faux animosity, and when Mr. Jacobs turned around, signaling that all was in order, Jack held out a hand for Davey to shake.  
Davey took one look at the gesture, and shook his head, stepping in and hugging his friend hard, clapping him on the back. Jack reciprocated the gesture, and the younger man was the first to pull away.

"Take care of yourself?" Jack asked of him.

"Take care of *yourself* and the boys." Davey retorted.

"Deal."  
Davey should have seen it coming. The spit in the palm handshake, and it was now being offered to him.  
And he actually returned it. Saliva in his own hand, he shook Jack's, giving the other kid reason to grin broadly.

"Hey, say goodbye to Crutchie for me, will ya?"

"No problem, Davey. See ya later."

The kid couldn't hold back the smile on his face as he was led out of the hallway, still glancing back to see his friend standing there with a proud grin on his face. He had high hopes for Jack, though worries still plagued his mind. What if he'd made that deal in vain? Did he really think he'd be there longer than the others? When he and Crutchie and Romeo got out, would they be on the streets?  
Davey was letting his fears get the best of him again, and it was unhealthy, especially since he'd just left the Psych ward.  
He made a mental note to get in touch with Denton, a friend of the family who was always looking to foster lost kids. He'd be more than happy to take in the boys.  
Davey looked over his shoulder at the swinging doors.  
Part of him was happy to leave that place behind, but even with all the help he'd been given and all the progress he'd made, he couldn't help but feel like he'd not seen the last of that place.  
_-_-_

"So, Santa Fe? What's so special about Santa Fe, Jack?"  
Crutchie was sitting practically in Jack's lap as the two had made a home in the crip's bed in the psych ward. Since he'd come back, the two had been nearly inseparable, since Davey wasn't around no more. A week had passed, and in that time, more of their friends had left. Specs was gone, and to add insult to injury, Race had been let out into the real world.  
Their ranks were failing, but it wasn't such a bad thing.  
Even Jack was getting better. He'd not wanted to suffocate himself all week, though he'd been scratching at his arms whenever he wasn't paying attention. Dr. Larkson had suggested he occupy his hands at all times, so he'd taken up drawing, and as he sat with Crutchie, he'd mindlessly sketched out a cowboy and a horse, writing in large, western style lettering 'Santa Fe, New Mexico' on it, like a post card.

"It's big, wild. Not like New York, pal. I bet you'd like it there, lotsa horses and cows. It ain't like the olden days, but you'd be able to breathe better there." Jack shaded the horse's shadow careful, and he could feel Crutchie tryin' hard to stay still as the larger man reached around him.

"We oughta' go there, Jack. When we get outta this joint, we should go to Santa Fe, get outta this place." The optimism in the kid made Jack laugh softly, nuzzling his jaw gently.

"Yeah, sure, Crutchie. We'll go to Santa Fe when pigs fly." He replied, and the kid turned to face him.

"I'm serious, Jack. Nothin's keepin' us here." Severity lit up gray eyes.

"Yeah, except the fact that you're a sixteen year old kid with a busted up leg."

Apparently Crutchie hadn't thought about that, and the disappointed look on his puss made Jack's heart twinge.

"...You know what, Crutchie? We'll go to Santa Fe someday. You and I." He said softly, pressing his face into the crook of the neck of the boy in his arms. A soft noise of happiness left him, and Jack smiled as he felt Crutchie relax into his chest.

"Yeah?" Crutchie whispered, his voice suddenly filled with fatigue.

"Yeah. I'm gonna look out for my boy." Jack promised, grinning as Crutchie turned, curling against his chest.

"I'm your boy?" He mumbled.

"Course you's my boy, Crutchie, I ain't gonna let anything happen to ya."

"Really, Jack?" Crutchie's voice was soft, nearly afraid, and Jack couldn't help but wonder if someone had made this promise to Crutchie before, and not kept it.  
Taking a deep breath, Jack nodded.

"Yeah. I know you're gonna get outta here before me, but Davey said he's gonna look out for you when I'm not there."

"Don't talk like that, Jack. You're gonna get outta here soon. You know, I'm gonna help you get better. You and me, we'll get out together, just you wait."

A small smile drifted over pale lips, and Jack nodded.

"Alright, Crutchie."

He'd never imagined himself in this position. A cute guy in his arms, in a nut house, no less. He felt a tug at his heart as he looked down at him, and he chewed his lip as he identified the feeling as protectiveness.  
Jack had always been protective of people he cared for, and he'd felt it for several people in this ward.  
Davey, Romeo, Race, even. But with Crutchie... He felt like he was a dream, ready to be tugged from his fingertips. The two were closer than ever now, and there'd been a few times he'd stumbled into Crutchie's room at night, shaking from a nightmare, and crawled into the kid's bed with him, hiding in his warmth.  
The nightmares were growing for Jack, and though they were terrifying, the young man was more annoyed by them more than anything now.  
They always started the same.  
His father holding a gun to his mother's head. He always leaps to save her, but his feet are trapped in syrup-y darkness, slowing him in a molasses of nothingness. The gunshot would ring out, and he'd either wake up in terror, or launch into a horrible dream of being attacked by anything and everything his mind could conjure up. Most recently, it was his new friends, turning on him, shunning him and kicking him away. The one that made him fear the most was the image of Crutchie, bloodied and bruised, and himself with torn up knuckles. His mind kept telling him that all he was good for was hurting others.  
He'd not talked to Dr. Larkson about his dreams, though they'd been around for quite a while.  
All was still for several minutes while he delved into his own mind, and Jack was sure the other boy had fallen asleep on him. The steady, rhythmic rise and fall of Crutchie's chest was comforting to him as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable in the bed. However, the instant he moved, blue-grey eyes were suddenly on him, concern and fatigue floating in them.

"You okay?" He asked softly, rolling over so he was laying flat on his stomach upon Jack's chest.

"Sure. Are you?" Jack answered, running a careful hand over Crutchie's hair, relishing in the sheer softness of his locks. The kid smiled and nodded, beginning to move so that he was sitting up, straddling Jack's waist, though with his bum leg, he didn't look very comfortable.  
With a smirk, Jack sat up, and, in one fluid motion, shifted so that Crutchie laid beneath him now, his bad leg laying straight out and comfortable, his other nearly about Jack's waist. A blush lit up the smaller boy's cheeks as his hands gripped the young man's arms, but Jack didn't give him long enough to question it before he was leaning down and capturing soft lips in a tender kiss. Pinned beneath him, Crutchie had little choice but to respond, his arms wrapping around Jack's neck, pulling him in closer, his lips warn and sweet with sleep.

He never wanted this moment to end.  
But of course, all things must come to an end, whether by own volition, or a knock on the door.

"Crutchie? It's Katherine, can I come in?"

Jack sat up off of Crutchie so quickly that he fell off the bed with a loud yelp, landing on the hard floor.

"I'm coming in, alright?" The woman called, opening the door, and at this point, the boys had covered up their previous activities, though Jack's hair was still a mess as he sat back on the bed, having produced a deck of cards from his pocket, and both were leaning on pillows.

Katherine stared, smirking slightly. It was clear they were hiding something, and she had a clear idea of what it was, but they weren't really doing anything wrong, per say.  
"Having fun?" She asked, leaning against the doorframe. The boys looked a bit fearful, and the woman couldn't help the laugh that left her.

"Don't do anything dumb, you two."

Jack couldn't believe she was just leaving, and the look he cast at a blushing Crutchie was one of relief, though he only looked back with a look of sheer admiration, leaning forward and kissing his cheek as the door closed behind the nurse.

_-_-_

Crutchie's release forms were signed by a man named Schneider. He'd said that he worked for the government and that he ran a foster home for kids who'd been through tough times. Crutchie fit that bill pretty well, and although Jack did not trust him, he had to have hope that he would take care of Crutchie as well as they had here. He'd promised to come and visit Jack every week, but he'd be going back to school soon, and he'd have a new family.  
Jack doubted Crutchie would even care for him anymore. His heart was breaking, though he was holding it together in front of the adults, his head down and his hands in his pockets, watching the young man with heartbreak in his green eyes. He'd not let go of Jack's hand, and though he was pretty sure his handprint would be burned onto his skin, Jack didn't care.

"You'll see me all the time, Jack. You'll see me so much, you'll be sick 'a me." Crutchie's voice was soft and low, the grief hanging heavy in his soft words.  
"I promise. You and me are gonna go to Santa Fe, remember?"

Jack could feel his defense mechanism building up in his chest, and he tried to suppress it. He couldn't hurt Crutchie with his words.  
He looked up and nodded, his smile nearly forced.  
"Sure, kid. I'll be outta this joint soon, I promise." Stepping in close, Jack pressed a kiss to Crutchie's lips, expecting to be able to relish in the comfort and warmth of a kiss, to forget the world for just a few moments, but the clearing of a throat and a gentle hand placed on his shoulder dragged Jack away from his and Crutchie's private world.

"Hey, do ya mind?" Jack turned to glare at Katherine, who chewed her lip, looking at Schneider, who had a hand on Crutchie's shoulder. Jack was definitely uneasy about him.  
Leaning forward again, Jack pressed a final, chaste kiss to the smaller boy's lips before stepping back, feeling Katherine's arms wrap around his shoulders from behind; a comforting gesture of gentleness towards one who was hurting. And as Crutchie turned to the door, Jack was definitely hurting.  
"See ya around, Crutchie." His voice was quiet, and he could only hope that it wouldn't break and show weakness, but the tears etching a burning path down his jaw were break enough.

"I'll see you, Jack." Blue eyes locked upon his own, and his heart cried out at the hopeful look on Crutchie's face. It didn't last long, though, as Schneider, who was holding open the door, cleared his throat again. The kid moved quickly, and the door swung shut behind them. Jack didn't bother holding back anymore, twisting free from Katherine's gentle arms as he jogged down the pristine hallway to his room, ignoring the guys who were in the common area, trying to get his attention. He couldn't be around people anymore. He just needed the dark. He didn't care if the thoughts came back, Jack just needed to be alone.  
Curling up on his bed, an arm under the thin pillow, Jack dried his eyes and tried to discern the numerous feelings that weighed down his heart.  
Sadness clutched at his chest, suffocating him. Fear for Crutchie shredded at his lungs, filling his throat with blood and choking him. He could hardly breathe as he pulled up the harshest of the emotions.  
Anger. He was furious that he was being left again. Would this keep happening to him? Would everyone leave him again?  
A whimper left his lips as he curled up tighter, pulling Crutchie's hat from under his pillow and holding it to his chest as he waited for sleep to cover him. It felt like years, but he finally let himself dissolve, giving up his consciousness to the sea of numbness.

Jack woke to the uncontrollable pain, the itch to find something sharp. His arms were on fire, and as he sat up, he began to scratch. And scratch, and scratch. He let out a cry of desperation as his nails bore down on the healing skin, taking away layers slowly. He wanted his arms to be open, he needed to let the pain out, he needed to feel something. Another cry left his pale lips as he sat on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest. His heart screamed for him to stop, but even as he let out a shout of frustration, he couldn't make himself quit digging at his flesh.  
He hardly heard the door open, nor did he feel the hands grabbing his wrists, pulling his hands away. He could hardly look at the face of the one who'd stopped him, but when he did, his heart couldn't break any further, though it wanted to.  
Katherine clutched his hands tightly, and her lips were moving, though Jack couldn't hear. Her face was desperate, and it was then that he noticed the blood staining his nails and arms. The woman shouted something over her shoulder, and as Jack looked up at the blindingly lit hallway, he saw the last of his friends. Romeo and Kid Blink looked scared as another nurse entered the room, carrying a first aid kit. However, Spot stood in the doorway looking... sympathetic.  
The vague feeling of Katherine pulling his arms dragged him into reality, and suddenly, the sound hit so hard that he recoiled. He was pulled up onto his bed, Katherine scolding him all the time.

"Jack Kelly, what were you trying to do?! Is this was Davey or Crutchie would have wanted you to do?!" Her eyes were trained in his, and he opened his mouth to shoot back a stinging retort, but all that came out was a yelp. Looking down, Jack scowled as the other nurse began to clean the gashes he'd made on himself. He sighed, looking down at his lap as he tried to think of something to say.

"I wanna go home."

Katherine's eyes melted from anger to compassion as she knelt in front of Jack, taking his hands as his arms, up to his elbows, were bound in gauze, preventing him from gouging at himself again.

"I know, Jack. It's okay." She rose a bit, enveloping him in a careful hug as the other nurse finished her work and stepped back.

"Come on, Jack, we're going to go see Medda." It wasn't uncommon for Dr. Larkson to demand to be called by her first name, though the nurses hardly ever did.

"I'm fine, I don't need to see a doctor, Katherine. Just, lemme sleep, please." He wanted to shut out the world again, he was embarrassed and drained, he just wanted to close his eyes and **go**.

"I'm sorry, Kelly, you have to go. It's.. It's policy." The woman insisted, but Jack could only look up at her in anger.

"Would you just leave me alone? Don't you get it? I don't want or need your help!" His voice was breaking as he stood up, pushing her away.

"Yes, you do! And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll get out of this place, okay, Jack?" She was trying to be kind, but Jack could see she was losing patience with him.  
His lips parted, his eyes cold, Jack was ready to deliver a harsh blow with his words, but he stopped at a meek touch on his bicep. At first, the young man thought that it was a guard, coming to restrain him again, but as he turned, his eyes fell upon Spot, his fingers barely touching Jack's arm.

"Come on, Kelly. I ain't gonna let you fight me on this one, so if you don't walk to Larkson, I'm gonna drag you there kicking and screaming. So get on your feet and walk." The young man said sharply, and Jack turned, glaring firmly.

"You think you can make me do anything, Conlon?"

"Yeah, I do. Are you walking or am I carrying you?"

Jack wanted to fight him, to defend himself, but the agonized look from Katherine was enough to make the young man heave a sigh and nod.

"I'm goin', I'm goin', stop rushin' me." Rolling his shoulders, Jack began the shaky walk out of his room, and into the hallway, where Kid Blink stood, his one eye tracing over Jack's unstable form. He gave a soft nod to the young man, who nodded back. A mutual respect had bloomed between the two in the absence of the others. They weren't the best of friends, but Jack could tell that they were going to grow closer. He'd never really been able to determine exactly what Blink's illness was, but when he wanted Jack to know, he would tell him.  
Just behind the one eyed kid, Romeo stood, his brown eyes wide and searching over Jack, landing on his bandaged arms. He let out a sigh, and as Jack began to walk down the hall, accompanied by Spot and Katherine, he wished there was something he could do. Maybe there was...

Doctor Larkson was in her office, listening to some loud, obnoxious vintage showtune that reminded Jack of his time in solitary. He could only stand in the doorway watching her, wringing his hands as he watched. It was Katherine ths knocked on the open door, interrupting the woman.

"Oh? Jack, Katherine? Spot?" Medda asked, turning to see the small group. They didn't even have to speak; She stepped forward, her eyes falling on Jack's arms, and that was all she needed.

"Ah, I see... Come on in, Jack. Thank you two for bringing him to me."

Larkson's words made Jack feel like crap, and as she closed the door and sat in the large leather chair behind her desk, he mulled around behind the two guest chairs, pacing anxiously.

"Jack, what happened, honey?" She asked.  
"I thought we were doing so good. Your poor arms..."

Jack sighed, turning around and leaning against the chair.  
"Yeah, well, we can't all be glory kids, can we?" He snapped, refusing to look at Medda's face.  
She was silent for a few moments, and Jack could hear a pen scratching on paper.

"Can you tell me what happened, darling?"

The word 'why' lingered on the tip of his tongue, but Davey's words rang in his ears. Talk to the doctors.  
Jack took a deep breath, still not turning to her.  
"Crutchie left. I just... I needed to let off some steam." He said, rubbing his face.  
"I woke up and I felt like my blood was acid. I was tryin' to make it stop."

"So... you were trying to get the bad blood out?" Medda asked, and Jack could hear the terrible sympathy in her voice.

"Yeah."

All was quiet for a few moments before footsteps sounded on the soft carpeting.

"Jack, your blood should be inside your body. I think you should pick up a hobby, something that lets off the steam, takes your mind off of your scars. Occupies your hands." Medda crossed the floor, standing before the young man.  
"Do you have any interests? Music, maybe?"

Jack shook his head, then thought about it.  
"I can draw." He said, meeting the eyes of the red haired woman.

"Very good, that will do just fine. I was also thinking about something that might be a little more physical. How do you feel about running?"

"Running? Like... for fun? Sure, why not?" Jack shrugged.  
Medda looked slightly taken aback, as though she was surprised that Jack was so willing to shift his participation into her suggestions.

"Is... is there anything else you'd like to talk about, Jack? Your dreams, maybe?" She asked, motioning to the overstuffed, Victorian style couch that sat on one side of her office. It looked comfortable, red velvet with gold tassels and pillows, but Jack knew that sitting on it would mean giving up and letting her pick his brain. Was he really wanting to fight her on this?

"Nah, you don't wanna hear about that stuff. Nothing fun there." He said, crossing his arms over his chest. Medda smiled softly, pulling him to the couch and making him sit.  
"Are they nightmares, Jack?"

An irritated sigh left his lips and he nodded, looking over at the her.

"Yeah, so they are. They'll stop." He answered curtly.

"Do you want to tell me about them?"

"Not really, but I made a promise to a friend, so I gotta." He sighed, rubbing his face as Medda whipped out a notepad and a pen. This woman knew her job really, really well.  
"Alright, so my dad, he was this really hoity toity crime king, ya know? Like... Like All Capone. My ma, she got gunned down, and it was his fault." Jack began, and he watched as the doctor wrote quickly, then looked up, frowning.

"What a strange nightmare, Jack." She said, and the young man chuckled, shaking his head.  
"Yeah, I wish it was just a dream. That's the truth. Just a little background. The nightmare is that he's holding a gun up her her head," He pointed two fingers to his temple, his thumb raised to demonstrate-  
"And I try to run to help her, but... I get stuck and then..." Fingers cocking, a soft 'bang' left Jack's lips.

Medda's eyebrows pulled together, and she reached out, taking his hands.

"That ain't all. Sometimes, they end there, other times, it keeps going and it's... Friends or people I know that just turn on me. It's stupid, and it's just... I'm fine." He pulled away, rubbing his eyes.

"Jack, they're dreams. They can't hurt you. I understand that you are frightened by them, and I will do anything I can to help you. What do you think triggers these?" The woman backed off a bit, but Jack still felt her intensity. He gave a shrug, and with that noncommittal gesture, he told only the truth.  
"Maybe we should start there, then."

_-_-_

-Two Months Later-  
Things got better.  
They really did.  
Kid Blink went home, the nightmares had nearly stopped for Jack, Spot had gotten a surprise visit from his mother and little sister.  
They'd been mulling around in the rec room, building puzzles and reading, when suddenly, there was this little five year old girl with curly hair and little pink high tops running into the room, yellin' for Patrick Conlon. She'd been followed by an older woman with grey tinged hair and eyes the same color as the brawler's, and suddenly, the place went silent as Jack got up, leaving Romeo to finish their masterpiece puzzle on his own. He'd opened his mouth to speak, to tell the ladies that there wasn't no fella called Patrick around here, but he'd been thrown out of the way at the last minute, and as he gained his footing back, he realized that he didn't care in the least.  
On the floor in front of him, Spot had caught the little girl in a huge bear hug, his eyes closed tightly, warding off tears.  
Jack knew how vulnerable the other was in that moment, clinging to this kid like she was a life preserver and he was in the middle of the ocean, and even though this was the perfect moment to take control and destroy Spot, Jack wouldn't dare.  
Spot's mother hadn't bothered to hold back her emotion as she watched her children, tears spilling down her angular cheeks.

Jack had backed away, leaning against the table as Spot stood, still clutching the child as he turned to his mother and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. They exchanged a few words in a language that the others didn't understand-  
Well, Jack didn't, but just behind him, Romeo smiled softly. His family had spoken mostly Italian in their home, and this reminded him of his own mother. It made his heart burn to think of his own brother and sister, and especially his mama. Being thrown out and tucked here, it'd severed the ties and contacts.

Jack looked up as Mrs. Conlon spoke, her voice soft.

"Patrick, chi sono queste persone?" She asked, looking at the young men around the room.

"Mamma, queste persone sono i miei amici. Questo è Jack." Shifting the child on his hip, Spot motioned to the young man, who was only slightly alarmed when Spot's mother held out a hand to him. He went to shake it, but the woman grabbed his wrist, and pulled him close. He let out a sound of defiance, though out of respect for a maternal figure, he didn't pull away, even as her grip tightened.

"Thank you, Jack. You have helped my boy become better." She spoke in broken English, but the effect of the words was not lost on him. A slight nod was his answer, and she released him immediately, seeming slightly embarrassed.  
Spot gained his mother's attention back quickly, and the little girl began to chatter away in some language crossed between English and Italian. It was actually pretty cute, but Jack felt a bit of stinging in his chest as he turned back to the table and saw Romeo staring at the little family, tears welling in his gentle eyes.  
Jack couldn't let himself get pulled back down after he'd been doing so well. Romeo was his closest friend at this point, and Jack wanted nothing more than to cheer him up, but as he stepped towards him, a soft voice calling his name pulled his attention away.  
In the doorway stood Katherine, her delicate fingers holding a thin white envelope. 

"Jack, a letter came for you. It's from Crutchie."

These words might as well have been 'Teddy Roosevelt is here and he wants to take you to Disney world.' To Jack, they were. Practically vaulting over the table, he was at the woman's side in a moment, taking the letter from her with such excitement that he nearly shredded it as he pulled it open, like a child on a sugar rush.

"Hey, slow down, I want to read it too!" The woman tried to reach for it, but Jack gripped it with both hands before darting past the girl with a smirk on his face. She shouted, but the young man ran past her without a care, laughing as he did. The cold hallways were home to him now, as opposed to how he saw them as a prison all those months ago. He'd grown like ivy here, becoming more open, his scars fading and his personality blooming. In second nature, he pushed open the door to his room, leaping onto the bed and tearing into the envelope.  
The words were scrawled in neat handwriting, blue ink smudged slightly, as though Crutchie had been rushed.

"Dear Jack,  
Greetings from the Refuge. (That's what Mr.Schneider calls this place. It's dirty and he's not very nice, and he beats up on us, but there are beds and stuff and he feeds us... Its a place to live.)  
How are you? I'm okay. I guess I wasn't much help getting you out of there. Schneider doesn't really give us time to write, so I would have written sooner but...  
Oh, yeah, Jack. This is Crutchie, by the way.  
These other kids, they is rude. They say jump, and you jump or you're screwed.  
But the food ain't so bad, least so far, even though we don't gets a lot of it.  
Ha ha.  
I miss you.  
Sleeping next to you, all warm and curled up close. No one to hurt us or tell us to stop.  
Anyway...  
So guess what? There's this secret escape plan I got to come and visit you. Gonna climb out the window, onto the fire escape, climb down and take off like a shot!  
Maybe though, not tonight. I ain't been sleepin' so good and my leg is a little stiff. Hey, but nothin's gonna keep me from comin' to get you outta there. I'm comin'.  
And after, Jack, I was thinkin' we might just go...  
Like you was sayin'.  
Where it's clean and green and pretty, with no smog or rude jerks. We'll be ridin' horses every day, and my old leg, it'll heal right up.  
I'll be fine. Good as new.  
But there's one thing I need you to do.  
I know you don't believe it, but family looks out for each other.  
So you tell all the fellas from me to protect one another.

The end.

Your friend. -This word was scribbled out, and another word was written above it-  
Your *best* friend. -This two had been marred with ink, and written below,-

Your lover,  
Crutchie."

As Jack set the paper down, his throat tight and rage swelling in his chest.  
This jerk, Schneider, he was mistreating Crutchie. And Jack, he was trapped in here, what the hell could he do?  
As he kicked the letter away, he felt utterly helpless.  
Feet pounded on linoleum as he began to pace; his stomach swirled in a pit of anxiety, nausea and fury. He needed to think of something. Anything.  
Maybe... Maybe Davey could do something. That was it! A surge of victory rose up within him and he laughed, turning and flying out of the room.

"Katherine!" He couldn't even wait until he got to the nurse's station to call for her. He was just so excited. He was gonna get Davey's number from her, and he'd go to Schneider and get Crutchie out of there!  
He rounded the corner, feet nearly sliding out from under him as he ran.  
"Katherine! Hey, I need-" He was breathing hard by the time he got to the double doors where the woman usually roamed, but he cut off at the sight before his eyes.  
There, with the woman, stood a slight little guy, his brown curls a mess and his blue eyes dull with exhaustion. He looked gaunt, and as he laid eyes on Jack, he looked as though he might run away.

"Dave? What are... what's goin' on here?" Jack asked, his voice shaking.

"Jack, David has been checked in again. He's going to be staying with you, is that okay?" The woman stepped between the two boys, and it was all Jack could do to cross his arms to hide the utter anger and disappointment in his chest.  
"This day could not get any better." He muttered, glaring at her.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes. Hey, how is Crutchie doing? Was it a good letter?"

That was the last straw.  
Spinning on his heel, Jack neglected to answer as he stormed down the hallway back towards his room.  
Everything was falling apart, once again.

_-_-_  
Jack had discovered the rooftop by accident, but it was now one of his favorite places. To sit on the very ledge, his arms wound tightly through the metal safety bars, his feet swinging over the traffic and anguish below.  
He'd considered jumping a few times, but he'd always been stopped at the thoughts of Crutchie and Davey, his only friends anymore. How would they feel, knowing that he'd just... quit?

Where he sat now, the young man could see for miles, even through the smog. He could see the alleyway he'd slept in for weeks. He could even see his old apartment. Old, dusty memories.  
Knuckles tightened on the bars as he stood, leaning against them as his green eyes tracked his city.

"Don't!"

The shout startled Jack, but the hands grabbing him by the arms and hauling him back made him yell out as he turned around.  
He met the terrified blue eyes and without hesitation, he relaxed, stepping back.  
Davey stood before him, his hands still outstretched, as if to protect Jack.

"I wasn't gonna jump, Dave." The words were firm as Jack studied the kid.  
"What are you doin' back here? I thought you was good."

The other boy swallowed hard, turning his gaze to the ground, then slowly seating himself on a clean space of concrete. Jack, not wanting to push the younger boy, sat beside him, watching.

"I... I went back to school." Davey mumbled.  
"It was great for a while, no one bothered me, a few kids were even nice to me. But then... these kids kept coming after me and yelling at me. I thought I could ignore them, but I... I had an anxiety attack that was so bad that I... Someone called the police on me because they thought I was crazy. I don't really remember it, but Sarah was there, and she said I kept screaming and trying to attack people that got close to me..." Tears welled in the young man's eyes and he covered his face, swallowing hard.  
Jack felt awful. This was the last thing he'd ever expected to happen.

"Geez, Davey... I'm sorry." Was all he could manage, his voice soft as he wrapped a gentle arm around his friend.  
"If I'd 'a been there, I woulda soaked the jokers that set you off."

Davey let out a watery laugh, and shook his head. He was silent for a long while, leaning against Jack as he took deep breaths, calming himself.

"I saw Crutchie." Davey finally mumbled, catching Jack's wandering attention.  
"He isn't looking so good. He never complains, but that's just him. I can't help but think... What if Schneider...?"

"He wrote me. He says that he's bein' beat up on. I was actually gonna call you and see if there was anythin' you could do." Jack was struggling to keep himself calm now.

"I can't do anything. Not from in here. But there are more of us on the outside now. Race lives out there now."

Truthfully, Jack hadn't thought of that.

"Then we get in touch with him. I'm gonna get Crutchie outta there even if it kills me. He don't deserve that." The boy blamed himself for this, but as he got to his feet, he paused, looking down.  
"You comin'?"

Davey was staring down at his boots, his nails digging at the unforgiving cement.

"Jack... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not keeping my promise." He mumbled, slowly standing.

"Dave, you don't have to apologize. I said I was gonna get myself outta here. I said I was gonna look out for us, but... Here we are."

"Here we are."  
_-_-_

Katherine wouldn't give them Racetrack's number.  
No matter how hard they begged or pled, she wasn't 'at liberty' or 'allowed' to.  
Excuses.  
More letters from Crutchie arrived. They grew less enthusiastic. Jack grew more desperate.  
The letters stopped, and no one on the outside or inside knew what was happening. Davey tried to get his parents to look in on the kid, but they never got past the door of the Refuge.  
Jack wasn't giving up.  
One month.  
Two months.  
Two months and four days.  
Jack Kelly was being released.  
It came as a shock to him, but he'd been granted to a man who, apparently, knew Davey quite well.  
Bryan Denton, he was called, and he fostered kids who had problems.  
It was all a blur, and as Jack stood by the swinging doors with his friends surrounding him, he felt a twinge of sadness.  
Davey and Spot, they were the only two left. A few new kids had slunk into the Ward, Skittery and Snitch, they called themselves. Quite, secluded, they didn't make trouble. Jack had faith in Spot and Dave anyways.

He had no words.  
As he stood there with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his hoodie and high tops finally laced back up, he found that... he was gonna miss this place.  
"Hey, Jack, it was a delight working with you. And I hope the next time you come through here, it'll be on better terms." Katherine was the one to break the painful silence, pressing a piece of green paper into his hand.  
Jack cocked his head as he read the words, spelled out in bright, bold letters.  
"It says you're looking for volunteers. Here? You want me to work here?" His green eyes flicked up to her, and a light grin slipped over his lips.

"You're guaranteed a place here, if you want it. Besides, you can help kids like you get out of here." The woman said, smiling softly as she smoothed his hair, like a mother would. Jack parted his lips to speak, but he was cut off as the door opened, and a man entered the hallway, looking quite flustered. He didn't speak at first, nor did the small group, though Davey stepped forward with a soft smile.  
"Hey, Denton." He greeted the man, who smiled and shook Dave's hand.  
"I'm looking for Jack Kelly, do you know where I might be able to find him?" The man asked.

"Here." Jack raised a hand, his face showing nothing but confidence and his shoulders squared up.

"Bryan Denton. It's nice to finally meet you, Jack. I've heard a lot about you from David and Katherine." Bryan held a hand out to the teen, who shook it hesitantly as he took in the man's appearance.  
Neat brown hair, tweed jacket, slacks, bow tie. What the hell had he let Davey get him into?

"Hopefully some good things. With this bunch, I can't tell no more." He said, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Definitely. Now, I have to sign you out of here." Bryan turned to Katherine, who flashed a bright smile and nodded, turning quickly to get behind the counter and grab the papers.

"Well, Jacky-boy, this is it. If you'se ever in Brooklyn, you gives me a call. My mom, she'll take care of ya till I get outta this joint." Spot spit in the palm of his hand, holding it out to Jack, who chuckled, mimicking the action and shaking it.

"Yeah, alright. I'll do that." He confirmed, looking to Davey, who gave a light grin.

"You'll see me again. I'm not saying goodbye."

"Good."

The boys stood there quietly, almost awkwardly, until Denton turned back, and motioned for Jack.  
"Alright, are you ready to go?" He asked. The young man sighed, but nodded, his fingers curling and unfurling as he turned, looking at the people who'd shifted his life back onto the right track. Katherine swept him into a bear hug, which he was more than happy to return, squeezing her slight body gently before releasing and bidding his home goodbye.

_-_-_

"So what kind of things do you like to do, Jack?"

Denton's voice punctured the silence in the small car as the two made their journey back towards the foster home.  
Jack didn't answer at first, his eyes following children playing in the street.  
"I like to draw. I spend a lotta time alone." Was the answer, and Jack could tell that Denton was satisfied.

"Well, right now, there are only a few boys living at the house. Henry, Boots and Specs are really nice, I think you're gonna get along really well with them."

"Did you just say Specs?"

"Yep. He came from the Ward, a few months ago. He's a good kid."

Jack nodded, rubbing his arms anxiously. Being outside, in the open of it all, it was stressing him the hell out. He could feel Denton staring at him, but he knew there wasn't anything he could do about it.  
His green eyes went back to the surrounding streets.  
They had been driving forever, and even if the GPS says they were twenty minutes away from the house, Jack didn't believe it.

"We're taking a short cut." The man says suddenly, and the little red beater swerved onto a dark side road, into a neighbourhood that was clearly not the best. The locks on the car doors clicked shut.  
The two were quiet again for a few minutes as Jack studied the dank apartment buildings, but the silence was ruptured by a sudden shout.  
"Pull over! Now!"

Denton slammed the brake without hesitation, and before he could even ask a question, Jack was out of the car and flying like a shot across the abandoned street.

One of the run down buildings had a very large, very formal sign. A sign that read ' The Refuge '.

"Jack! Jack, slow down!" Denton was calling to him, but Jack didn't care, not even as he stumbled over the curb, his hands catching the scrape of concrete, but he was back up in a second. Sneakers pounded pavement as he leaped up the stairs, hitting the bell several times.  
At this point, Denton had caught up with him, huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath.

"Jack, w-what is this place? Why did you make me stop?" He asked.

"My friend, he's here. He was tellin' me about the guy who runs it, and-" The young man didn't get a chance to finish his sentence as the heavy oak door was pulled open, and his heart was torn in two.

A boy stood in the doorway, his skin pale and his blue eyes tired. Blond hair stuck up and messy, like he'd run to the door. Bruises were barely covered by the thick sweater he wore, though the green and purple marring his jaw was impossible to hide.  
His leg, twisted at an odd angle, bore no weight as his small body leaned on the crutch.

"Crutchie." The name was a whisper leaving Jack's lips, and before anyone could stop him, he was lunging forward, hauling the boy into a bone crushing hug.

"J-Jack, how... You found me. You found me." His voice was choked, and the warmth of tears brushed Jack's shoulder as he clung to him.

"I told you I would." Jack murmured, not caring that Denton was staring. His concern was Crutchie, and the way the smaller boy was clinging to him, trying to hide in his arms. Leaning down, Jack nuzzled his face, pressing his lips to Crutchie's in a sweet, tearstained kiss.

"What do you think you're doing, Charles?" The deep voice made Jack jump a bit, but Crutchie practically flew away, trying to get back inside the house before the owner of the angry words got out, but as a huge hand gripped Crutchie's arm, Jack felt fury boiling in his chest.

"Hey, let go of him, he ain't your property." His voice was low and dangerous, and even as he felt his own guardian place a hand on his shoulder, Jack felt no fear.

"And who do you think you are, young man?" Schneider smirked, his fingers tightening around Crutchie's slender bicep, making him whimper.

"I'm the guy who's gonna kick your ass halfway to Queens if you don't let him go." He'd never faced off to a guy like this before. He'd never had a reason to. An odd mixture of chemicals was bombarding his brain as he spoke, the most of which, he felt, was protective anger for the smaller kid.

"I wouldn't be talking to adults like that. It could bear some very, very unsavory consequences."

That was it. Something snapped, and in two long strides, Jack had Schneider by the lapels of his stupid suit, slamming him against the dingy drywall of the foyer. Bryan shouted at him, but he didn't care.

"I swear, I will break every bone in your body, startin' with your damn head if you touch him again. I ain't afraid of you, Schneider, but you better damn well be afraid of me." He snarled, but he wasn't able to hold onto the intimidation technique as long as he would have liked to, because he was suddenly being hauled away, dragged out of the apartment building.

The last thing he saw before he was shoved back into Bryan's car was Schneider and Crutchie, standing on the porch.

What had he done?

_-_-_

Bryan lectured Jack all the way to the house, and even as they parked on the street and exited the car.

"If I wasn't accountable to the law and I didn't have you and the boys, believe me, I would have gone after him too. I'll make some calls. I promise. Crutchie won't be there much longer. And if we're really lucky, they'll let me bring him here."

These words actually shocked Jack as he pulled his backpack from the back seat, but he had no time to question it as the front door swung open and a young man descended the stone steps towards them.  
This building didn't seem to match the others in this neighborhood, in the sense that it was very clean, and there weren't any shady looking people mulling around out front.

"Jack!" The boy called out, and a grin fell over Jack's face as held out his hand in greeting.  
"How ya doin' Specs?" He asked, shaking the hand.

"Great, now. You won't believe who else showed up, since you was comin' here." Clapping Jack on the back, Specs led Jack up to the door, nodding at Denton, who'd already pulled out his phone and dialed a number.  
"I've got to go to the office. Show Jack around, okay?"

The inside was even nicer than the outside, and instantly, Jack felt like he didn't belong.  
Hooks on the walls with little chalkboards on them each bore the name of a boy who resided there, their jackets and backpacks hung there and their shoes arranged neatly beneath.

The walls were creme colored, the hardwood floor scuffed, and the table in the foyer had a vase of dying lilies on it, but it was way nicer than he was used to. It reminded him of his childhood home.

"Hey, boys, look who finally decided to show up!" Specs called out, straightening his glasses as he took Jack's bag from him, hanging it on one of the empty hooks. Producing a piece of chalk from the side table, he scrawled Jack's name and a smiley face on the little board.  
Pounding feet drew his attention, and with no time to brace for impact, Jack was nearly carried off his feet as someone slammed into him in a constricting hug.  
The dark hair, the childish features, and the laugh that could carry and anvil in the breeze?

"Romeo!" Jack laughed, patting the kid's back as he pulled away, the grins on both boy's faces driving away all anguish.

"Took ya long enough, Kelly." In the doorway a few feet up the hall stood Racetrack Higgins, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

"Yeah, well, someone had to keep Spot outta trouble."

A soft blush lit up the gambler's face and he looked down, but there was no animosity in the action.

"Blink wanted to be here, but his ma had to work today, so he's there helpin' her." Romeo said, and Jack recalled Blink saying his mother worked in a dry cleaning shop. He could just imagine the brash kid folding clothing all day, probably wearing an apron. He chuckled and shook his head as he was led out of the foyer and into the kitchen. A large round table was set up, each chair matching. The walls were blue in here, offsetting the white cabinets and counters. It was very well lit, and Jack couldn't help but wonder if a woman was living here, decorating.

Though the boys chattered on and on, Jack found his ability to concentrate on the conversation impeded, his mind focused solely on the boy with the blond hair, probably cowering in a corner, hiding. Jack blamed himself for allowing this to happen. He shouldn't have let Crutchie go on that first day, the day he felt something off with Schneider.

Before he knew it, the sun was setting, and Specs was leading him upstairs, Romeo just behind him, carrying Jack's backpack. Apparently, he was spending the night, not eager to leave his best friend (maybe more?).  
"So this is your room. Since it's so big here, you get your own. But you're not allowed to lock the door, and you're supposed to be up between six and eight in the mornin'. Curfew is nine, light out at ten. It's really nice here, I promise."

And after that, he was left alone.  
The room was nice enough. A bed, a desk, a table, and a window with a fire escape.

A fire escape.

A fire escape!

Jack grinned, dropping his bag on the floor and crossing the room, pushing open the old pane, and winding his lithe body through the small space, out onto the metal scaffold and beginning his climb down. Unafraid to face the dark streets, Jack knew his mission. Remembering the route they'd taken, as soon as his sneakers hit asphalt, he was running, back towards the Refuge.  
_-_- _

He hurt.  
Everywhere, he hurt so badly. He could hardly move, he knew he couldn't walk, with or without the crutch.  
Lying on the mattress he shared with two other smaller boys, Crutchie sucked in another deep breath as he sat up, leaning against the wall.  
"What de hell?" He heard the mumbled voice from over by the window, and he glanced up, seeing one of the kids staring out the dirty glass. The screech that the splintered wood emitted was enough to make Crutchie cringe, but the soft whispers that drifted in made his heart stop.  
"Crutchie, some guy climbed up the fire escape! He says he's here to see you! Do you want to come over here?"

He couldn't, but he knew he'd try, if it was actually who he thought it was.  
Using only his arms, he began to maneuver himself off of the bed and onto the floor, performing a slightly comical scoot.

"Stop that. Look, you get his legs, I gots his arms." He didn't see the two kids coming, lifting him and carrying him to the window and leaning him against the radiator and watching as he pulled himself up with his hands.

"Jack, you shouldn't be here, you know that. Schneider, he soaked me, but the next time, it'll be you, and I can't let you get hurt. Please, just-" Crutchie's words were cut off as Jack clambered through the window, and caught his lips in a hard, needy kiss. Crutchie knew it was wrong, with the kids who could turn and snitch on them at anytime, but he needed this contact. He needed to be held by someone who wasn't going to try to kill him.

"Crutchie, I'll kill him. I'll kill him for hurtin' you. I won't let him do this to you anymore." Jack whispered, his arms pulling Crutchie into his lap.  
"I'm gonna carry you out."

"No! Jack, no, he'll find out and these kids, they'll get beat on next. I can't let that happen." He whispered, clinging to the taller boy, who's green eyes were trained on him. He could tell he was pissed, the way his hands were so tight on his body.

"He'll kill you, Crutchie."

Silence filled the air, and Crutchie knew he couldn't lie. He knew it was true.  
Leaning up, he pulled Jack into another kiss, the tears starting again.

"Tomorrow. Come back tomorrow and I'll leave with you."

"How do you know he won't soak you again tomorrow?" Jack asked, his fingers tracing delicately over Crutchie's legs.  
A gasp of pain met the action, followed by a yelp as he recoiled.

"Woah, Crutchie, stop! Don't move." The young man's voice was firm, frightening him enough that he did as he was told, even as the leg of his baggy jeans was rolled up, displaying his good leg. Swollen, nearly beyond recognition, marred pink and purple, clearly broken.

"I'm calling an ambulance, Crutchie. There is no way in hell I'm leaving you here."

And just like that, Crutchie knew. Letting Jack take care of him? It would destroy him. It would ruin his life, and then the older boy would get stuck toting him around.

"Fine. Carry me down the fire escape." He said it through gritted teeth, but he could only hope that his plan would work.  
"You first."

A look of relief washed over Jack's features, and he nodded, gently lowering Crutchie down and fitting his lanky limbs through the small window. As soon as he was out, he looked back, only to see Crutchie slamming the pane shut and locking it.  
The betrayal on Jack's face was nearly impossible for the young man to look at.

"I'm sorry. I can't let you. Go back to Denton, Jack, forget about me."

Apparently the man heard him, because he gave an angry shout, punching the brick wall hard. The blood welling on the cuts drew a bit of panic to Crutchie's chest, but he couldn't help him now.  
Drawing the curtains, he backed away, leaning against the wall. He could still hear Jack on the fire escape, begging, pleading, banging on the window.  
Though more tears spilled down his cheeks, all the kid could do was cover his ears and pray that Jack would just go.

_-_-_

Jack didn't remember falling asleep.  
When the sharp, muffled yelling woke him, and the metal digging into his back relented, he was surprised, and on his feet in a moment.  
Crutchie... he'd locked him out when he'd tried to help. Damn that kid.  
But the shouting inside was growing more intense, and when he was punctuated by the whistling of something moving through the air, and a wail of pain, Jack felt no anger towards him. He wanted to bust up Schneider so badly, his own mother wouldn't recognize him.  
He couldn't get in. So...  
He'd have to lure them out.

He didn't remember the walk back to Denton's.  
As he pushed open the door, however, time seemed to pick up around him, and suddenly, he was being yelled at, accosted from all sides.  
Denton in his face, Romeo at his side, Specs trying to yell at him at the same time as Bryan , and just behind him, two other boys stood in front of the door, as if Jack might round and try to escape.

"What were you thinking?! Where did you go, Jack?! I know that you haven't been out of there in months, but leaving like that, that's not okay! I can't believe this!"  
Every word that left the guardian's mouth brought Jack's indignance higher.

"What the hell, Jack, I thought you were gonna be good!" Specs now, his eyes wide and searching over Jack for any visible evidence that could condemn him.

"Look, I'm fine! I went out to see Crutchie and I fell asleep on the scaffold. I know, it was dumb. I need to talk to Race, lemme through." He didn't care about the scolding at this point. He needed to form a plan with the boys to prove that he wasn't gonna let this happen to these kids no more.

"Jack, stop! We need to talk about this! I told you to not go back!" The older man put a hand on the kid's chest to stop him.  
"I get that Crutchie is your boyfriend, but you don't know what it's like in that house, how everything works. I need you to just calm down."

"You're wrong." The words came as a growl, after a moment of silence.

"About what? About Crutchie? Because from what I saw-"

"I know what it's like."

Silence fell, and Denton backed away, studying Jack.

The young man took a shaky breath, rubbing his face.  
"After my dad went to prison, I didn't just get out of there. I got tossed to Schneider, and every day, he beat the snot outta me. I called the cops. They got me out, and I really thought Schneider had changed. I can't believe I was that stupid."

The looks on the faces of the surrounding kids suggested that Jack had just spilled who'd shot Kennedy.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Denton asked, a light hand landing on Jack's shoulder. The kid shrugged, looking down.

"Didn't matter. Still doesn't."

"Yeah, it does, Jack. Okay? I know that you don't want to let anyone in to help you, but we're going to help. We're gonna get Crutchie out. Come on, I have calls to make."

And so, a plan began to be formulated.  
Racetrack was called, and with a stupid, giddy laugh, agreed to help, and was quick to inform Jack that Spot was out of the hospital. He'd handed the phone to him, and Jack could only assume that they were enjoying themselves together. The conversation hadn't lasted long.

So... maybe the plan wasn't exactly legal, but it was better than what Racetrack had originally suggested.  
He wanted to burn the building down. Jack's only complaint was that he wasn't sure he'd be able to get all the kids out in time.

They'd even contacted Davey for his opinion on the mission, and received the genius's blessing.

Specs would be playing an orphan going to Schneider, accompanied by Denton and stalling, while Race and Henry snuck in and got the other kids out via the fire escape. By Jack's estimate, there were at least fifteen other boys between the ages of six and twelve, not including Crutchie, who would be Jack's mission. As soon as the kids were out, the police would be called, and Crutchie would testify against them. Jack would too, if he could find a way to get out of the assault and breaking and entering charges.

Currently, the operatives were gathered around Denton's dining room table.

"Are you sure this is gonna work? They could charge us with kidnapping." Denton said, leaning over the hardwood.

"You won't be involved. I'm the oldest, anyway. They can't charge us with any adult stuff, we's minors." Jack said, leaning against the kitchen counter. They'd spent all day developing this plan, and he'd looked at every aspect.

"Alright... I'm behind you on this."

"We're gonna kick Schneider's head in."

_-_-_

At eight o'clock sharp, everyone was in place to start moving. Jack was at the bottom on the fire escape in the alley, accompanied by Boots and Spot, who were busily comparing marbles as they waiting. Race and Henry were stationed on the next two floors up, sitting on the landings as they waited for the signal to start.

Jack took a deep breath, poking his head around the corner to see their surroundings. Across the street, their next two companions, Kid Blink and Romeo, waited in an alleyway. Their job was simple. They got the kids away and safely across the street without being seen.  
This felt like a spy mission. It was, in a sense.  
A sudden bird call drew Jack's attention back to Blink, who waved at him from his cover. Jack nodded, turning and grabbing the wrung of the drawn up ladder, hauling it down and shaking the whole fire escape, immediately throwing the boys into action, rapping on windows and smooth talking the kids.

"Alright, incomin'!" Henry called down, and the metal began to rattle as three young boys began their decent. They hopped down, and Boots began to escort them across the virtually barren street.  
The kids were pretty willing to come out, and soon, most of them had come out, and the boys had gotten across the street, leaving Race and Jack to get up into the fire escapes, up to the highest floor.  
Jack knew this room. This was Crutchie's room. The window was already open, and as he poked his head in, his heart fell as he found that Crutchie was missing, although the two boys that'd been with him were sitting on the floor.  
"Psst! Hey, fellas, come on!" Jack hissed, and though they hesitated, they moved to the window. They were small, easy for the older boy help down to Race. As they stood in the gross alley, the gambler had one of the kids on his back, and the other was holding his hand. Jack knelt down, looking the smallest boy in the face.  
"Where's Crutchie? He was in there yesterday, where did Schneider put him?" He asked, his voice low.  
The boy was trembling, but he managed out a few stuttered words, one of which was 'basement'.  
Schneider had Crutchie in the basement. Jack had been locked in that basement more than once. It was worse that solitary at the psych ward. Far worse.

"Jack, what are you gonna do? We can't get in there without gettin' seen." Race seemed a little anxious as he adjusted the boy on his back.

"Go, Race. Get these kids outta the heat. I'm gettin' Crutchie out." He said, his voice firm as he rose, and began to climb the ladder.

"Whoa, alone?"

"Yeah, alone. Go, Racetrack."

The metal shook rather precariously as he climbed, but Jack wasn't afraid. He was livid. He didn't even look down to make sure Race had obeyed him before he climbed through the window and shut it behind him.

The rooms were clean-ish, probably by the kid's hands. The wood floors bore scrapes from years of no one caring, and the wallpaper was peeling, revealing old, scarred walls.  
Jack didn't slow down to reminisce. He had a job to do.

Quietly, the young man began to descend the stairs, the wood creaking softly beneath his sneakers as he snuck. Already, he could hear Schneider talking with Denton and Specs in his office, which happened to be beside the basement door.  
The old, creaky, basement door.

He intended to wing it, to try to do it by himself as best as he could, but as he reached the bottom of the stairwell and his foot hit an incredibly squeaky board, he froze as the talking ceased.  
His breath released from his throat as the office door clicked shut, and he kept moving, slipping through the hallway.

The office door was oak with a panel of glass, so Schneider could monitor everything that went on outside in the hallway, and currently, the man was faced away, towards the window. Specs, however, stood by, looking anxiously outwards. When he laid eyes on Jack, however, he jumped, his eyes widening.

"Make some noise." Jack mouthed. Specs stared back in confusion, though when Jack mimed breaking things, he nodded in understanding.

Crouching down, the young man slipped across the hall, his hand on the door handle as he waited patiently.  
A huge crash sounded in the next room, followed by shouting, and Jack took the opportunity, opening the door enough to slip through, shutting it behind himself.

The basement was dark, filthy, and frankly, terrifying. The old memories came flooding back to Jack as he steadied himself against the dusty wall. Even in the dark, he knew his path.  
From the bottom of the stairs, turn left. Right. Down the dark hallway. Heavy door.  
Behind the door, floodlights lit up the hall, which was lined with metal doors, each with a padlock and a slide that opened for food to be pushed into on them.  
Four out of five of the locks were undone, but one, at the very end, was closed up.  
"Crutchie?" Jack called out, receiving no reply. All the same, he stood before the door, studying the lock. It was old and rusted out, dented. He could tell.  
This was the cell that he'd been locked in while he was here.  
The slide on the door had been broken off, after he'd kicked it off a year ago. Across from the cell in the narrow hall was an old wooden chair, where Schneider used to sit and watch through the tiny hole. He'd lost his mind in that box.

"Crutchie, answer me, are you alright?!" He tried again, his hand closing around the lock. One short tug had the ancient metal crumbling in his palm and the door opening slowly. The wave of heat that came out of the room nearly had Jack choking, but he wasn't priority. It was easily ninety degrees in there.  
Though it was pitch black inside the cell, white light from the hall penetrated the dark, bleeding onto a small form on a blanket on the floor.  
The dirt on the kid's face did nothing to hide his identity, and Jack hesitated none as he stooped down and scooped the broken boy up. It was too dark to look at his wounds here.

"Ungh... N-no, I-I'll b-be good..." The words were whispered, voice broken. Crutchie's eyes flickered open, and as they rested on Jack, he could see the panic on his face in the floodlights.

"Shh... I gotcha, Crutchie. I'm gettin' you out. Schneider can't hurt you now." He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the kid's forehead.

"B-but..." Crutchie tried, but was cut off by the sound of police sirens suddenly wailing. Feet pounded upstairs, and Jack could hear the screech as the door was flung open.

A grin fell over Jack's lips as he shifted Crutchie in his arms as he began the hike up the stairs. It was clear Crutchie hadn't been eating, if his weight was anything to tell by.

Jack kicked open the basement door, confidently crossing the floor, towards the open door.  
A great deal of shouting was echoing in, and the kid laughed, grinning at the sounds of Schneider resisting the cops.

"Y'hear that, Crutchie? The bulls have that bastard in cuffs." He said, looking down at the weaker boy, who cracked a pathetic, pained smile.  
"Good... I never liked him anyway..." He mumbled.

"Alright, Crutch, we're gonna go to the hospital, okay? We're gonna get you all fixed up." Jack promised, walking right out the door, and stopping as he observed the scene before him. Two cop cars, an ambulance, a herd of kids, a fighting Schneider on the hood of the bull's car. Denton was talking with another officer, but as the two boys were finally spotted, one cradling the other, who's limp arms were wrapped around his neck, a cheer went up through the crowd.

"Yeah, Jack!" Even Denton was yelling out, rushing forward, though the EMT met the boy first as he descended the porch steps. The medic reached to take Crutchie from Jack, but the boy stepped back, scowling.

"We have to make sure he isn't hurt, please." The medic said gently, and Denton's soft hand on Jack's back added encouragement for him to carefully lay the kid over.

"Crutchie, this guy's gonna take care of ya, okay? I ain't leavin' your side. I promise." Whether he was conscious or not, Jack didn't know or care. He just needed to let him know he was there.

"Thank you. We'll take good care of him. Is he your brother?" The EMT asked.

"Boyfriend."

This earned him a strange look, but Jack brushed it off as he turned, meeting Bryan 's eyes.

"You did it. You got all those kids out, and just the state of them was enough to make them arrest him." The proud man grinned, looking down at him. Jack gave a light smile, not wanting to take a lot of the credit.

"Kelly!" The voice boomed out, and Jack turned, his blood running cold as he saw Schneider running at him. He didn't even have time to react as the left hook had him on the ground, seeing stars.  
An uproar met the action, not unlike the one at the hospital when he'd pushed Crutchie, but the cops were on Schneider in a second, tackling him to the ground and cuffing him again.

"Jack, are you okay?" After he'd shaken away the dizziness, Jack felt someone picking him back up, wiping at his cheek. Racetrack fell into one form before the kid's green eyes, and he nodded. His friends suddenly surrounded him, like some protection detail as they helped him to the ambulance, where they'd loaded Crutchie onto the stretcher. He climbed in after him, knowing that they'd follow with Denton, and the other kids.

He couldn't relax just yet.

Crutchie was barely awake now, his dull eyes observant, but searching. Jack slipped his fingers into his, watching as a smile slipped onto his lips.

"Everything is gonna be just fine, Crutchie. I promise. Not a damn thing can hurt you while I'm here. I promise."  
_-_-_

Crutchie woke to blinding likes, and the feeling of being stuck inside a marshmallow. Turns out that's what pain killer highs were like.  
What had happened...?  
He couldn't remember very much, only that Schneider had thrown him in the basement, and it had been so hot...  
That explained why his mouth felt as if it was full of sand.  
Blue eyes blinked away sleep as he turned his head, studying his surroundings.  
A hospital. Okay, that wasn't too bad. His leg was elevated, casted with plaster and wrapped in blue bandage, decorated with stars. He didn't remember that being done... but he did remember his leg being broken. Jack had been the first to find out.  
Jack.  
Sitting upright quickly- too quickly- dizziness assaulted Crutchie's head as he looked around, disappointment flooding his chest as he realized that his boy was nowhere to be found.  
He sniffled sadly, laying back on the bed. The silence in the room threatened to suffocate him, and his heart was tight, and the thoughts began, dragging him into the darkness again.  
He'd done wrong. He'd been terrible, he deserved this. He deserved to be broken. He deserved to be alone. He felt sick to his stomach, the room was spinning, and he had to block it out. Squeezing his eyes shut, Crutchie found that he could not keep the tears away.  
Medda and Katherine always said things got better.  
That wasn't true.  
And there he sat, weeping for his lost. He didn't know how much longer he could keep up his optimistic act, with nothing paying off. He'd been dealt a bad hand in life, and he'd been bluffing. He was good at the game thus far, but this...  
This made him fold.

Crutchie didn't even care that the door opened, he didn't care that someone was watching him. He didn't care when they crossed the floor, but when they climbed onto the bed and kissed him softly, he cared.  
His eyes wide open now, he pulled back, as an involuntary reaction to touch.

There, carefully knelt between his legs, sat Jack, looking as if he'd been through hell and back. A bruise lit up his tan cheek, and his green eyes were like chips of flint, sparking with an emotion that made Crutchie uneasy.

"You scared the hell outta me." The older man growled, making the smaller flinch. The hands slipping into his, however, held only gentleness and kindness, protecting and holding him close.

"I'm sorry." The sound of his own voice startled Crutchie, feeling the broken glass in his throat, the raw flesh, torn from screaming in pain.

"Don't you dare apologize to me, Crutchie. You didn't do a damn thing wrong. You got your ass kicked, and I let it happen. I'm so sorry, Crutch...." Jack whispered, his fingers gently reaching up and stroking the younger's face.  
This time, Crutchie did not pull away. He leaned into the touch, tears spilling down his cheeks again.

"Y-You didn't know, Jack, it's okay..." He said softly, his fingers tightening on Jack's hand.  
"J-Just... Don't leave me. I don't wanna go back there. P-please don't make me. Don't make me go back there!" Desperation suddenly surged up in the boy.  
Jack shook his head, kissing away Crutchie's tears, careful of the bandages and bruises.

"You don't ever gotta go back there. You ain't leavin' my sight again. My friend, Bryan, he's gonna take care of us. You and me, we's stickin' together."

The words were like water on a fire that consumed all, extinguishing the ravenous flames that threatened to tear Crutchie's body apart. He wept into Jack's hand, clinging tightly to him. Gentle arms enclosed around him, holding him close.

"I l-love y-you." Crutchie's lips trembled over the words, and as he felt Jack's arms loosening, he feared the worst, that, perhaps, he'd made a mistake.

"I love you too." The soft voice whispered into his ear, and the young man let out a laugh of relief, clutching Jack close.

It felt like they sat like that forever, but as the door to the room swung open, both boy started, parting to look at the offending door. In through the doorway streamed several boys, led by-  
"Davey!" Crutchie beamed, watching as the skinny boy grinned, approaching the bed and delivering an awkward hug.  
Race, Spot, Blink, Romeo and Specs followed, each shaking his hand or fist bumping the two.

"You shoulda seen Jacky-boy, Crutch, he carried you right outta that house, lookin' like some kinda superman. And then when Schneider knocked him on his ass, oh ho! He got right back up." Spot smirked as he relayed the story, watching Crutchie's smile grow.

"You carried me?" Crutchie asked, turning to Jack, who shrugged, rubbing his wrists.

"You wasn't gonna walk out."

"Don't carry me. No one carries me. I can walk on my own, y'hear me?"

"When you unconscious, you couldn't. Don't be mad at Jack, he was only helpin', Crutchie." Romeo piped up, his eyes soft as he looked at the boy. He could tell that even he was indignant about the way Crutchie had been treated, given the fact he'd been through the same thing not so long ago.

"Hey, Jack, Denton signed the papers! Crutchie's comin' home with us!" Specs said, a wide grin on his puss. The two boys in the bed smiled widely, their fingers still laced.  
Maybe things did get better after all.

A few hours passed, filled with joking, pushing and shoving, and general housing around when Denton told the boys it was time to go home, although Crutchie would be staying overnight. Of course, Jack would be staying with him.  
After the foster boys had left, it was just Jack, Crutchie and Davey, all seated on the bed, a deck of cards between the three of them.

"So when d'ya think you're gettin' outta here, Dave?" Crutchie asked, earning a slight smile.

"Doctor Pulitzer said never, but Medda says within the next month." He said. Jack chuckled softly, remembering that situation with himself.

"Hey, what are we playing by the way?" He asked.

"Poker."

"Go Fish."

"What?"

"I guess we're not playing anything, then." Davey chuckled, setting the cards down. A soft knock on the door interrupted the gathering, and as it opened, a woman wearing pink scrubs, her sandy hair tied up out of her eyes.

"Katherine!" Crutchie beamed, and the woman couldn't contain herself as she hurried forward, hugging him tightly, though she was careful of his wounds.

"How are you feeling, Charlie? I've been so worried, I wish I could have come and seen you earlier, but Weisel needed my help all day. I've missed your smile so much." She rattled off, and Jack laughed.

"Geez, Katherine, give him a second to breathe!" He said, and Crutchie let out a soft laugh.  
Oh, how he loved his family.

_-_-_  
"I told you not to carry me!"

"Did you wanna walk up those stairs by yourself?"

"Yeah, maybe I did!"

"You woulda fallen and split your head right open, kid. Nice try."

This was the argument that could be heard as Jack carried Crutchie up the two flights up stairs of Denton's house.  
It had been two days since they'd been in the hospital, and since then, all the paperwork had been worked out, Schneider was going to jail for child abuse and money laundering and Jack had convinced Denton to let Crutchie share a room with Jack for a night or two, just until he got his bearings.

As Jack pushed open the door to his room and set Crutchie down on his bed, he pressed a sweet kiss to the pouting kid's lips before turning and placing the bag on the second bed, the one that now belonged to the young man, but probably wouldn't be used very much.

"We're having pizza for dinner, so have to make that climb again in about an hour." Jack said, seating himself beside Crutchie.

"I'll walk by myself."

"Sure you will."

"Don't pick on me, Jack Kelly, I'll make sure you don't get t' kiss me again."

"That's a little rude, don't you think?" Jack smirked, moving and shifting Crutchie so that he was laying back on the bed, and he was hovering over the smaller boy.

"Hey! No fair, you're strong than me!" Crutchie whined, but Jack only chuckled, leaning down and pressing slow, open mouthed kisses to his jaw, sliding to his neck, nipping and sucking softly.

"Okay... t-this, I don't mind. Y-you don't have to stop." The words were barely managed, breathed out in pleasure as the taller boy worked on relieving stress. And truly, they two were wound up so tightly, they were like springs, ready to uncoil and explode.

Jack chuckled against his lover's throat, straddling his hips so as to avoid hurting him.

"I love you, Crutchie." He murmured, his rough palms slipping beneath the smaller boy's shirt, caressing his soft stomach, gently running his fingers over his defined ribs.

"Ah! Hey, stop that!" Crutchie giggled, squirming suddenly. Jack paused, pulling away.

"You ain't ticklish, are ya?" A playful grin spread across Jack's lips, and Crutchie blushed, trying to pull away, but the older boy hand him pinned. Deft fingers traced back over his sides, making him squeal and wriggle, but Jack did not relent.

"Noooo! Jack, you're gonna make me pop! C'mon, let up!" He cried through giggles. Jack didn't, however, and as his body shifted, and his weight fell onto Crutchie's leg, the wail of pain was enough to have him off the boy and three feet away from the bed in two seconds.

"N-No, it's okay, Jack, you don't have t'... It didn't even hurt that bad. I'm fine, I promise!" Crutchie sat up, trying to beckon him back.

The boy was hesitant, but when he sat back down, he didn't dare touch him.

"Jack, c'mon. Please? I'm okay. I ain't hurt, see? Good as new!" He wiggled his legs, only cringing a little at the movement.

"Stop that. No more of that tickling crap, I ain't gonna hurt you again."

"Stop blamin' yourself for what Schneider did. It wasn't your fault, and you'se knows that." Crutchie reached out, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him close. The older boy sat beside him this time, and when Crutchie pulled him in for a kiss, his hands stayed on his knees.

"Y'know, you're gonna have a rough time holdin' me if you won't even touch me." He murmured, pressing his forehead to Jack's. The taller boy rolled his eyes, squeezing his hand.

"Shut it, ya clown." He whispered, ever so gently moving Crutchie into his lap so that he was cradling him, holding him tightly to his chest. Crutchie smiled, leaning his head against his shoulder, breathing in his sweet, outdoorsy scent.

"I love you, Jack. Don't let go of me, okay?" He whispered, wrapping his arms around the older boy's neck.

"I love you too, Crutchie. I ain't never lettin' you go. Never."

~~The End~~


End file.
